Truths about Prophecy
by HoT.aGaiNsT.a.WaLL
Summary: Sometimes they're wrong. Let's just say, the Prime Merlinian? Not quite so Prime. Drake/Dave Drave
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Do not OWNNNN~!

**Warning: **guyXguy lurvin', mild language, a splash of violence, and some adorable fluffiness…

**Author's Note: **FIRST RATED M! I keep coming to the rated M section, only to find her unbelievably empty. Which made me sad. Because this couple is so cute. It reminds me muchly of Spander. Anyways, hope yalls enjoy :).

Dave had the worst of luck. Really, honestly, he did. It was as if he carried around a jar of pennies he'd picked up face down. Or like the Lucky Charms guy came jigging off his morning cereal box and issued a curse of Forever-to-be-a-ButtMonkey. Seriously. No joke. His life _sucked_. It sucked _bad_. So bad, in fact, he was sure the whole "Prime Merlinian" thing was just a part of his over active, hyperactive imagination.

In Dave's book? None of it happened. There was no way he could've been _that_ cool. _No way._ If he _had_ been cool, then Becky wouldn't have dumped him the second they returned from their little France outing. She would've been in awe of him, and would've stayed with him because he was an awesome sorcerer. Instead, she had awkwardly looked at everything but him, words quivering on her lips, afraid to leap out into the air. Though, really, she didn't have to say anything after she jerked away from the kiss.

She'd looked so distraught. Why had she been so distraught? Dave groaned, burying himself further under the covers on the small bed in his shared apartment. She'd had such a look of pity on her face. Like 'Oh, I'm sorry, the adrenaline had me thinking backwards. I actually _don't_ like you like that _at all_'. All it took was that emotion painted on her face, and he understood. He'd seen it before.

So, if someone he believed was interested in him as much as he was into them, only to have the truth smacked upside his skull—How could he believe in all the magick that had occurred? How was it even possible to fathom that a complete and utter _loser_ like himself had had such abilities? That was when he'd decided that it couldn't be true. That he was simply crazy and none of it was possible.

"Dave, I'm goin' out!" Bennet called and Dave heard, but he didn't bother to muster a response. "The pack loves you, man!"

"Yeah, yeah…" He muttered against layers upon layers of cloth as he heard the door click shut and lock from the outside.

After a few moments, he finally tugged down the blankets and stared up at his ceiling with bleary eyes. He lay there, limp and in a zombie-like state, just blinking tiredly up at the cracked drywall. He swallowed slowly, his mouth feeling like it was stuffed to the brim with sand and cotton. Not a pleasant mixture. He willed himself to look at the clock on his nightstand, and glared at the red numbers heatedly—until it suddenly burst into flame.

Flinging himself from his bed with wide brown eyes, he darted around his apartment, looking for a fire extinguisher. Where had Bennet put it? Why had the clock randomly combusted? He was starting to panic until he found the shiny red can; then he started to freak. Gripping the giant ass extinguisher, he held on tight with both hands as it dangled precariously a few inches from the ground, and he wobbled back into his room.

He was fully ready to put out the flame when something did it for him. He frowned at his undamaged alarm clock, and licked his dry lips as he tilted his head in question. It only took him a moment to realize he was just going more crazy.

"Dave," A familiar voice said from behind him, and he jumped, falling back onto his mattress with a cloud of dust floating up from impact.

Coughing, Balthazar stood there, eyebrow quirked curiously. Dave just stared, wide eyed. He had to be hallucinating. Had to be.

"_Dave_," His mentor—Correction, _imaginary_ mentor said, looking around the messy room with a frown. "Where have you _been_? Just because you can do magick without your ring doesn't mean you get to skip out on training. In fact, it means you need _more_ training."

Balthazar gestured to the clock as an example, and Dave shrugged meekly with a half-cocked grin—That was, until he remembered this wasn't supposed to be real. Then he shook his head, covered his ears, and sealed his eyes shut so tight he was sure they'd be stuck that way.

"Dave?" Balthazar tried again, not understanding his student's strange behavior.

Dave was mumbling something as he rocked back a forth on his old, lumpy bed. It took the Master Sorcerer getting closer to make out the 'not real's and the 'this isn't happening's.

Sighing, he shook his head. Something must've happened. Grabbing Dave by the wrist, he cleared his mind and concentrated. Within seconds there were in Dave's much cleaner lab instead of his pigsty of a house. Feeling the sensation of cold stone beneath him, the college boy yelped, coming out of his denial position to find Balthazar kneeling before him, a soft, comforting smile on the man's face.

"It's real, Dave." He said. "It's all been extremely real. And I understand your confusion. I'm sure it's a lot to deal with—killing off Morgana le Fey. It wasn't easy. And all the power you've unlocked inside of you isn't just going to go away. It's scary. I understand—"

"But you're not _real_!" Dave tried once again. He wasn't sure whom he was trying to convince. The illusion or himself.

"But I am, Dave." Balthazar said patiently, apparently having some sort of previous experience with this. "I'm real. You're real. Veronica is real—" He gestured over at the woman standing to the side, her hands to her mouth with worry, "Morgana? Real. Horvath? Also, unfortunately, real. All of it happened. All of it is _real_."

"…_Mannn,_" Dave groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "But I don't _want_ it to be real, anymore."

"Quis est verus est verus," Veronica spoke softly into the den, taking a few steps forward until she was next to them.

Soon, she was crouching down, too. Her hands hovered, ghosting across his face without ever really touching him. He could feel the magick. He knew it was real. He just didn't want it to be. Finally, she smiled, placing her hands on either side of his head, and leaned in to press a kiss against his forehead. Balthazar let himself fall back, sitting parallel to his apprentice with a faint smile.

"You are a blessing," She said with a heavy accent, pulling away, and sitting back on her heels. "A true blessing from Merlin, himself. You brought me back to my Balthazar. You destroyed Morgana. You brought Balthazar back from the dead. How can you believe that none of it happened?"

Dave sighed, a blush staining his cheeks. " 'Cause… Becky, kinda, broke up with me."

Balthazar bit out a sharp guffaw. "Is that it?"

" 'It'?" He cast a glare at his teacher.

Holding up his hands in surrender, he chuckled lightly, and pat his boy on the head. "It's a part of growing up, Dave. Someone else is out there for you."

Dave sighed again.

"Etiam," Veronica cut in with a blindingly comforting smile. "This Becky person was obviously not your…"

Veronica frowned, the English language still new to her. Turning to Balthazar she tilted her head, raven hair cascading down her shoulders. He looked back; ready to answer any questions his love had for him. Ready to stop the world for her.

"Quam operor vos narro 'Animus Materia', Balthazar?"

The older man looked shocked for a moment, laughing lightly before speaking for her. "Soul Mate."

She smiled again, turning back to Dave. "You will find your Soul Mate, David. I saw it in the stars last night."

Dave blinked owlishly at her before glancing past her at Balthazar. "Is she for real?"

Balthazar shrugged, still smiling. She did have the power of prediction. He didn't doubt she was telling nothing but the truth. The only problem—and it wiggled at the way back of his mind—was the form in which this prediction would come. Strange things happened when Soul Mates were involved. Balthazar and Veronica knew that for certain.

"Did we not just establish that we are 'real'?" The woman asked in slight confusion, looking to her lover for input. He simply smiled and nodded.

Dave shook his head, sniffing lightly, still pouting at the loss. He'd really liked her. She was pretty and had those eyes… Sighing, he hauled himself up and dusted off his palms. Balthazar stared up at him, simply waiting for Dave to make the next move. His apprentice gave him a look, gesturing about with a funny expression on his face. Veronica tried to muffle her giggles when Balthazar simply blinked and waited some more.

"So," The young boy shrugged, tucking his hands into his back pockets. "What happens, now?"

Balthazar grinned, getting to his feet. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

tbc.

reviews are welcome


	2. Chapter 2

"So, coming back _here_ is first?" Dave asked skeptically, a frown marring his pale features.

They were back at Drake Stone's penthouse. The really gaudy, overly done one. With the gold cherubs and the self-portraits. And it was all really starting to creep him out. He rubbed his arms, as if a chill was licking at his skin, while he followed behind the older man closely. He glanced about nervously, not liking the strange coldness that seemed to echo through out the extravagant home. It was unnatural. It was frightening.

"You remember Horvath's cane, right?" Balthazar asked, proceeding cautiously down the hallway.

"Yeah."

"And you remember the extra jewelry he had on it?"

"Some nice pieces of bling…" Dave muttered, and Balthazar cast him a dry look. "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, he got one from you—obviously. But there were two other pieces. One of the only ways to use another sorcerer's ring is if they give it up willingly. The other way is to kill them and take it." Balthazar continued along, taking slow step after slow step.

"Wait… Are you saying we're here on _body patrol_?" Dave asked, shock raising his voice a few octaves.

"Basically, yes."

Dave had to wrangle his gag reflex down into submission. He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and breathing in slow and deep. Nausea seemed to overwhelm him one moment, and then release him the next, like the crashes of the ocean on a shore. Clenching his hands, he rode the waves out as easy as he could before he let himself move again. Dark eyes fluttering open; he met Balthazar's regretful gaze and gulped.

"They're people, too. I know they were evil and all—It's just," Dave's voice broke. "They're people, too."

"I know," He nodded. "That's why we're here. Just because they were Morganians doesn't mean they don't deserve a little respect after death."

Dave nodded. A signal that he understood. A signal to carry on. He was ready, but at the same time completely unprepared. So, they crept on. Tip toeing silently through the penthouse. Another burst of cold seemed to envelope him, and he froze in place; his entire body shaking uncontrollably. Balthazar continued on, not noticing the strange reaction his student was having behind him until the poor boy hissed out his name. He turned around, seeing the shaking, abnormally pale version of the brave young sorcerer, and felt the chill too.

Brown eyes looked up at him in confusion as his body sort of convulsed. He placed a hand on his stomach, feeling a strong pull there, and turned his head slowly to the right. His clenched jaw fell loose as he inhaled sharply and it trembled as he pointed with his free hand at a pair of mahogany double doors. Balthazar glanced at the doors, at his student, and then at the doors again. Dave tried to take a step towards them, but the second he moved closer it was like he'd been punched in the gut. Doubling over, he gasped out his shock loudly, and Balthazar was by his side, rubbing his back.

"I wasn't aware you had this ability," He said, pulling Dave far away from the doors and whatever was behind them—it took moments for him to regain his lost composure, and he looked up at Balthazar questions on his lips. "Though, I guess I should've expected it. You are the Prime Merlinian, after all. I should just expect you to have every power in the book."

"Power? I th-thought you…" He coughed into his hands. "Said… You said it was all Physics."

"I never said 'all', Dave." Balthazar reprimanded lightly. "Work on your listening skills, yes?"

"So, I have a power and it does—What? Paralyze me with fear?" He asked, anger tingeing his voice.

"Dave, no," Balthazar said placatingly, setting his hands on his student's shoulders. "That's not it at all. You sensed… The bodies."

There was a pause. A long one. One of those pauses where everything kinda clicks, and it clicks so hard and fast that you can practically hear it coming together in the previously ignorant one's mind. The gears turning against each other. The words falling into place. The unsaid 'Oh! I get _it_!'. And, of course, the unbelievable shock and outrage at finding out something even more unbelievable than before. Then the inevitable clang of pure click-age.

"You're kidding me,_ right_?" Dave asked, his voice hitting that strangely high octave all over again. "I can _sense_ dead people? Like that kid in that M. Night Shyamalan movie?"

Balthazar shook his head. "No, Dave. Not like the Sixth Sense. You don't see ghosts. You sense dead spirits. Like a Necromancer. Do you know what that is?"

"Necromancers _do_ see ghosts!" Dave insisted, a whole new kind of panic hitting him. Was he going to have to start raising the dead, now?

"Calm down, Dave." Balthazar ordered. "It's not nearly as potent as they say in the books."

Dave laughed bitterly, pulling from the comfort of his mentor's grip. "But I'm the _Prime Merlinian_. Who says it _won't_ be crazy insane like in the story books?"

"That's why I'm here, Dave. I'll train you to be ready for anything like that," He said, taking a step back, trying to calm the wild animal Dave was becoming.

He inhaled deep; calming his buzzing nerves, and nodded as he came back down. "Okay. Just… Go check on them, yeah?"

Balthazar nodded, turning sharply on his heel, and headed back in direction of the doors. He paused in front of them, looking at Dave over his shoulder before he gripped both doorknobs and shoved them open. He tensed as they swung open into the darkness, revealing nothing but a wall of black. With a grimace he took a step into the shadows, holding his ring hand out and creating a flare of light with it. Guiding himself through a rather large room, he squinted past the cloak of black at the sheer pitch, wishing he'd brought one of those modern flashlights with him.

He stumbled on something, grunting and falling face forward into a thick carpet. His light went out as his concentration was lost, and he felt around at his feet for what he tripped over—only to retract his hand at the feeling of icy flesh. He'd seen the dead before. He'd done the killing before. It didn't mean that he liked it or was anymore accustom than anyone else. Balthazar was suddenly blinded by light from above, and his vision jerked over to the doorway, spotting Dave there shivering with a hand on the light switch.

The boy looked sick to his stomach as he stared with a pained gaze at the small girl sprawled face down on the carpet. He seemed to gulp back his fear and his nausea, and he walked into the room with noodle legs. Scrambling over to Balthazar, he helped the older man to his feet and then stared down in horror at the girl. Balthazar rubbed his back comfortingly before he kneeled down and rolled the girl over. She was as pale as death itself; her lips were blue and her dark eyes were wide open but clouded as they stared at the gaudy ceiling blankly. There was no breath. There was no pulse.

Dave knelt, too. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at it as the anxiety roamed free across his face and through his body. He could _feel_ her. Not that there was anything to _feel_. There was nothing, and he guessed that was what he noticed. Her cold nothingness. With other people, there was a heat. A life. With her it was sucked clean from her body. He watched as Balthazar tilted her head so that he could see her neck. There was a spot there. A symbol burned into her skin, and the closer to the mark the more he could see veins and capillaries.

He gagged, feeling the weight in his gut twitch and churn. Balthazar was there again, rubbing his back, trying to calm him. Dave swallowed back the vomit; hating the feeling of weakness and unease that was still streaming through him. He could feel the girl not be there. But he could also faintly feel the echo of what she once was. Which was as scared as he felt right then.

"I hate this, Balthazar," He muttered into his hands, hiding once more behind his palms. "I hate this."

"I know," He nodded solemnly, standing with a deep and determined scowl. "But it'll never happen again."

He peered up at him through the cracks between his fingers. "How do you know?"

"We'll make sure it doesn't."

That statement seemed to fill Dave with confidence. He nodded, too, clambering to his feet to stand proudly next to his mentor and friend. They scanned the rest of the enormous bedroom, spotting the other body with ease. Drake Stone was draped carelessly across his own king sized bed, eyes closed liked he was simply asleep. Balthazar would've believed that, too—If it hadn't been for the same mark on the young man's neck.

Dave grabbed his arm, though. Grabbed his arm hard in a vice like grip, and even twisted a little bit. For a man so small, he certainly knew how to hold on tight. Balthazar looked at him uncertainly, seeing the way his brown eyes were trained on the bleach blonde on the bed. He kept watching, not really sure what to do, when the college undergraduate rushed forward to the bed. He was tempted to call out to him when he saw what he was doing.

A plasma ball was building up in his palm. A _big_ one. Balthazar's eyes widened as the brunette slammed it into the limp man's chest, and went into a moment of shock when brown eyes snapped open, and a tall form arched up, fully alive. His jaw dropped as the Morganian gasped for breath, hand clutching at his silk covered chest, and looking unbelievingly at Dave. Dave who just brought the dead back to life with one move. Dave who was shaking and panting just as much as previously-dead-guy was.

"What the hell—"

"He wasn't dead," Dave said breathlessly, never taking his eyes off of the famous magician. "You weren't dead. You were close. But you weren't dead. I could feel it."

He nodded, still panting, and still clutching at his chest as if he could squeeze hard enough and calm his adrenaline-fueled heart down. "Thanks for that, luv."

"No problem," Dave said, just as out of it and dazed as the man in leather pants sitting before him.

Balthazar blinked, looking at the Morganian in puzzlement, and then onto his student in only more confusion. "Dave?"

Cloudy brown eyes looked at him, and he saw the fall coming before the brunette's knees even buckled. However, he didn't see the bleached Brit reach out and snatch Dave before he got a chance to collapse. When strong arms reeled the small New Yorker into a broad chest, Balthazar became even more confused, and for a brief moment he was convinced the world was out to make him mad. Finally gathering himself once more, he took long strides forward, arms out to take Dave off the enemy's hands.

The bleach blonde didn't glance up until Balthazar cleared his throat. When he did, the master sorcerer saw a confused, young man staring up at him like a stray puppy. Brown eyes flecked with gold and concern for the even younger man passed out in his arms. The even younger man that had saved his waning life just seconds before. The Brit nodded to himself, gingerly holding out Dave's limp form to the gruff looking magician. Balthazar took him with ease, eyes narrowed dangerously as the other man hesitated before releasing his grip.

Once he had the boy in his arms, he turned and walked away, not saying a word until he got the doorway. Looking back at the shaken man—_Boy_, Balthazar corrected himself. He was just another young, easily impressionable _boy_. Looking back at him, he sighed, giving up any pretense of justifiable 'I hate you because you work for the dark side'. Pursing his lips, he made direct eye contact and a feeble gesture with his shoulder.

"Are you coming or not?" He asked, and dark eyes widened.

"A'course." He said, cockney accent lilting his words and twisting his vowels.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood. He stumbled a bit at first, but easily got his bearings back and followed the wiser wizard out the door, casting a sorrowful look at the girl on his floor. Balthazar paused a moment, shifting Dave in his arms so that he could point his ring at her dead form. Within the blink of an eye, she was gone and Balthazar was once again on his way out. Drake hesitated; gulping back his normal instincts to run away, and instead followed—quite closely—Balthazar all the way out of his own penthouse.

tbc.

review if you'd like : )


	3. Chapter 3

_Lips pressed searing kisses across his skin, and he shivered in delight. His breath came in short pants, and someone muttered in his ear. Raking his nails down a well muscled back, he groaned and arched up. What was this feeling? This perfection? This bliss? Skin to skin, their breaths mingled as they moved together—Forever touching and exploring and consuming. A fire was building up inside him, and he couldn't stop it—_

Dave's eyes snapped open, and he immediately regretted the sudden wakefulness he felt. His head throbbed and his entire body felt like it had been run over by the eighteen-wheeler form of a Transformer. Something cool was pressed to his forehead, and he looked up with a bleary brown gaze at Veronica. She sat there, cradling his head in her lap, dabbing at his head with a damp cloth. She smiled, noticing his awakened form, and ran her fingers comfortingly through his short, dark hair.

It took him a minute to realize where he was. The lab. On his couch in the back room. With Veronica stroking his head. He calmed down within seconds, and smiled grimly back. After a moment, he noticed the pain in his mind had eased quite significantly, and he tilted his head much like a kindergartener that didn't understand something.

"It's easy to heal such things as the mind," She muttered, her strange accent settling him. Making him feel quite at ease. "You shouldn't over exert yourself like that."

Dave looked contemplative a moment and then shook his head. "I had to save him. The loss of one life is enough. I couldn't let another die."

Veronica gasped at the conviction in the young man's face; seeing a maturity far beyond his measly twenty years. He looked determined in such a way that it seemed nothing could shake him from this strange new path he'd landed himself in. Stopping evil was one thing, but making it a mission to stop evil without bloodshed was something completely different. He was paler than before and she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, checking for a fever or any other ailment she could fix.

"You're very brave, David," She said, threading her fingers through his hair gently. "Very, very brave."

"Thanks," His face fell from hard conviction to a timid happiness. "You are, too. Yanno, saving Balthazar the way you did. Taking Morgana into you. I don't know if I could've done it."

"Yes, you could have," She smiled confidently. "If it had been the one you love above all else—your Animas Materia—you would have stopped the world to save them."

Dave's eyes lit up just at the thought of loving someone so ardently. "Really—"

"What the bloody buggering _hell_ do you think you're _sodding doin'_?"

That had Dave jumping up off the couch, ignoring the swimming and nosedives his brain was doing, and marching out of the back room into his main lab. He was about to demand an explanation for the outburst when he froze in shock at the sight before him. There was his mentor and friend, Balthazar, holding up a bleach blonde, previously almost dead, magician with nothing but pure magick. Neither of the more practiced sorcerers deemed him with a glance. Instead, they continued to glare quite heatedly at each, voices raised, and very nearly destroying some of his extremely precious coils.

"I'm obviously restraining you," Balthazar hissed at the British nuisance. "Because you obviously _can't_."

"Can't what? Bloody _restrain_ myself?" He griped right back, struggling with thin air, but unable to counter the spell without a ring. "Why would I do _that_, you _soddin' cur_?"

Balthazar grinned, half annoyed and half crazed as he kept the man dangling. "Because I told you to!"

"You're not _my_ bloody master!" He snapped back, pointing a finger in Dave's general direction without really noticing he was there. "You're _his_!"

"And if you would stop _hovering_ around him—"

"He saved my _life_! The least I can do is make sure the trainspotter is alright!"

Dave fidgeted, not really liking the whole people talking about him like he wasn't there—When he clearly _was_. "Uh… Guys?"

"Well, you have, so now you either leave or do what I say."

" I can't exactly stroll out the bloody door with you danglin' me about in the air like this—"

His argument was short lived as Balthazar released him abruptly. He fell with a giant exhale of air and a groan. The older man looked smug, if only for a moment, as the blonde stood, rubbing his butt to ease the pain. Sending a fiery glare, he twisted, popping his back and then stood with that familiar slouch of indifference. Dave scanned him, taking everything in: from the silk shirt to the purple snakeskin boots. He shuddered, presumably at the lack of taste, but something inside him sort of quaked.

"Listen you geezer, jus' cause you're a right git," Balthazar raised an eyebrow at him. "Doesn't mean you get to toss me about."

"I really think it does," He said with a shrug, pointing his ring back at the magician.

Before anything worse could go down, Dave felt himself being propelled forward by an unseen force to stand between the two. With his hands out, he felt the energy flow from him without even consciously releasing it. Both men stumbled back a few steps and looked at him in shock. Whether it was the use of ringless power, or the fact that he was there at all was a mystery to Dave. He didn't care to find out.

"Seriously, guys," He muttered, shaking his head. "You can't wait until later to fight it out?"

"Dave," Balthazar blinked in surprised. "You're awake. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, luv, you're lookin' a bit dicky," He said, getting as close as the mass times acceleration would let him. "You're not gonna have another eppy, are you?"

"A-what-now?" Dave asked and then shook his head. "Never mind. _Yes_, I'm fine."

Neither man looked convinced. Partly because they were simply concerned, and mostly because of the way the college student was swaying on his feet. And, not to mention, the way he glanced between them, as if his vision were blurring. They would be correct in that assumption. Both tried to spring forward as Dave caved over, pitching forward tiredly. Unfortunately, they couldn't reach him with the force still holding them in place.

However, quite fortunately, Veronica was there. With her own magicks, she reached out to Dave as he tumbled over, fully conscious and wide-eyed. He was caught mid air by nothing, and he hovered there a moment until she righted him and rushed over. Standing on wobbly legs, he stared up at her as she buzzed a fretted about him, muttering in a dead language about how he had to be more careful.

"David," She said, like she was his mother, and was scolding him for not doing his homework on time. "You haven't had enough sleep to keep doing spells like this. You will go too far if you're not careful. You need rest, David."

He nodded sleepily, not really prepared for a rebuttal. "Right. Sleep. Rest."

"Very good, David," She said with a smile, guiding him back into the small hidden room, and laid him down on the couch. "Sleep. We'll be here when you awake."

"Aye, aye Captain," He muttered, curling up around himself; his eyes falling shut quickly.

Within seconds, he was snoring softly. She giggled, tucking some of his shaggy hair behind his ear before she floated back out into the lab. Both men looked at her, worry and concern in their gaze, and she was tempted to roll her eyes. Very, very tempted. Instead, she gazed sternly at Balthazar.

"How could you even expect him to work under such fatigue?" She hissed at him, and the wizard cringed at his love's wrath.

"I didn't realize—" He muttered, shuffling his feet.

"No, apparently you didn't," She said, stepping down the stares slowly, like a lion on the prowl. Or, better yet, a Mama Bear defending her young. "And the next time you don't, it could be a lot worse than just needing sleep, Balthazar."

"Meus profundus apologies," Balthazar bowed deeply, and the dangerous glimmer in Veronica's eyes faded slightly. Until she turned them on the Brit.

"And you," She hissed, eyes aglow once more, and he shrank back. "How dare you cause such anxiety for such a pure young man?"

"I assure you, Miss Bellucci," He bowed as well. "Ego villis haud vulnero."

Veronica's eyes widened in pleasant surprise, "Vos narro Ancient Lingua?"

"Etiam," He said with a small smile. "I've practiced for quite a few years. Since I was six, actually."

"And how old are you, now?" She asked, her previous aura of intimidation dissipating into something naturally curious.

"Twenty eight," He replied easily, relaxing slightly. "But I try not to keep too much count. Age isn't a real factor these days."

Veronica nodded, and suddenly Balthazar was by her side, clearing his throat. "Meus Diligo… Shouldn't we be sending our guest away now? Much like a fish, guests start to smell after a while."

Veronica waved him off, as if saying 'you brought him here; deal with it'. "What is your name?"

He smirked at the old sorcerer, making direct eye contact with the powerful enchantress before him. "Stone. Drake Stone, at your very divine service." He flourished his own introduction with a theatrical, swooping bow, and took her hand to press a gentle kiss there.

Veronica smiled in delight. She liked this boy—even with his odd style—and the unseen stars above her hummed their predictions. She felt the very ginger tug on her mind as they whispered in her mind, and her smiled broadened into something only described as divinely mischievous. Oh, this would be fun… How she'd missed meddling.

* * *

Dave tossed and turned under the warmth of the blanket draped over him, his mind whirring on a million times a second. He could see images flashing before his minds eye, but he could never catch enough to understand it. The ones that stuck with him most, though, were the scenes where he was sprawled out quite helplessly—waiting impatiently for the other person to touch him, kiss him, screw him—do _anything_ to him. He wanted. He craved. He pined for it. But then there was this pain… This pain and this blue light and it hurt so much he couldn't breathe.

And then he woke up all over again with barely a memory of anything. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he sat up slowly, trying to remember _where_ exactly he was. Warmth was wrapped securely around him, and he looked down at the blanket he kept here just in case he had a long night in the lab and had missed the last train. Detangling himself, he arched his back in a high stretch, and let out a content groan. He ran his fingers through his hair, shaking away the practically permanent bed head if only for a moment before he swung his legs over the edge and took a slow, languid stand.

Quiet voices drew his attention from outside his back room, and he frowned slightly. Rubbing his still tired eyes, he made his way to the open door with a slightly fatigued ease. He yawned broadly, stretching once more as he paused in the door way and three pairs of eyes fell on him. Standing there, awkwardly in place, he glanced at all three of the older persons and then waved.

"Hiya," He said, brows furrowing for a minute. "What's uh… What's going on?"

"Great!" Drake exclaimed, tossing his hands up in exasperation. "He doesn't bloody remember!"

"Would you _calm down_?" Balthazar hissed. "He just woke up! It's not like he's suddenly forgotten who he is or anything. Right, Dave?"

"Uh…" He trailed off, staring at the rather flamboyant man standing next to his master. "Why is he here?"

Balthazar sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright… So, he doesn't remember that part."

"What part?" Dave asked, slightly panicked. "Is Horvath here? Should I be running?"

"David," Veronica spoke up; always the voice of calm and reason. "Breathe slowly. Everything is fine. Horvath is not here."

"Then why is _he_ here?" He squeaked, pointing at the tall, lithe form.

"_He_ is here because he won't leave," Balthazar said with a sighed. "Unfortunately, he feels he owes you due to your previous actions."

"Previous actions?"

"Saved my bloody life, you did," He smirked, tipping an imaginary hat at the younger man. "Thank you."

Dave blinked a couple of moments, and memories came fluttering back. "Oh… Oh, yeah…"

Balthazar scowled, "Oh, yeah? That's all you have to say for yourself?"

Suddenly, Dave was less confused and far more frustrated. "What would you have rather had me do? Leave him there? Let him die like that? I don't _care_ if he's evil. I don't want death on _my _hands."

There was silence after that. Drake's eyebrow shooting up as Balthazar tried to scramble up the words he felt he must say as a Master Sorcerer to his apprentice. Veronica simply smiled with pride, as if her own child had finally said his first word. Dave rolled his shoulders, releasing tension that had rebuilt there in only the few moments he'd been awake.

"Are you done scolding me?" He asked, tilting his head.

Drake chuckled, but quickly tried to muffle it in his hand.

Balthazar growled, giving the Brit a warning glare before turning his questioning gaze to Dave. "What do you mean?"

"You and your scolding me like I'm four," Dave said in exasperation.

"Well, compared to me, you are four," Balthazar replied with a bittersweet grin. "I'm thousands of years older than you, Dave!"

"So is Veronica!" He argued, pointing to the beautiful woman to the man's left. "Do you see her shaking her finger at me?"

Balthazar glanced at Veronica, and she smiled back. He knew when he was wrong. Sighing, he laughed softly and shook his head. "You truly are the Prime Merlinian. Stubborn."

Dave looked affronted, "I'm not stubborn. I'm just… a little hard headed."

Drake barked out a laugh at that, scanning the younger man with amused eyes. "Lil' hard headed? Don't know about you, luv, but I think I'd prefer stubborn."

"What do you—" Dave was about to ask, but Drake's eyebrow quirked up, and the lecherous grin he received was enough to make the statement's double entendre appear in his mind. "Oh…"

Drake's mischievous grin turned into something quite wolfish and predatory as a faint blush danced its way across Dave's cheeks. The smaller boy fidgeted as a slightly awkward silence fell on the small group, and he shuffled his feet, his gaze falling to the stone floor. Balthazar watched the two quizzically, not getting the innuendo or the alien behavior his student kept having. Veronica swallowed back laughter as she watched Drake obviously flirt, while Dave timidly avoided it.

Oh, yes, this would be quite fun…

* * *

Dave sighed, tucking his hands away into the deep pockets of his jeans as they threaded their way through the masses on the sidewalk. "I don't know why _I _have to take you home. I'm sure you can find your own way."

"Certainly can," Drake said, towering nicely over most of the people, and sticking out like a sore thumb—even for New York's standards. "But I like the company. You _are_ my hero after all."

He cast him a dry look, catching as Drake batted his eyes at him mockingly, and sighed again. Wriggling deeper into the heat of his own clothes, he muttered a quick 'whatever' and picked up speed. The bleach blonde easily matched his pace, barely paying attention to his surroundings, and simply expecting the world to part in his wake. They walked a couple of blocks in silence, enjoying the sounds of the city, and the strange comfort the other was inadvertently offering.

"It's not a big deal," Dave finally broke through the city noise. "Saving your life… I mean, it wasn't like I was thinking about it. It just felt like I should."

Drake nodded, tucking his thumbs in the pockets of his way too tight leather pants. "I get that. Living by your instincts is an awesome thing to behold in anyone. I admire you for that. For what you did."

"_You_ admire _me_?" Dave asked, suddenly stopped, messing up the flow in sidewalk traffic.

Drake paused as well, turning to look at Dave with a smirk. Someone shoved by, knocking into Dave's back and sending him stumbling forward, face first, into Drake's chest. The Brit caught him with ease, his deep chuckle sending a shiver down Dave's spine as vibrations spread through both of them. He looked up, face pink with embarrassment, and Drake simply helped him find his footing and then cleared off some invisible dust from Dave's old leather jacket.

"Watch yourself Merlinian," He said, condescendingly playful. "Can't have the goods gettin' messed up. Who'd save the world then, hm?"

Dave nodded, adjusting himself as well to stand straighter on his generally clumsy feet. "Right. Of course."

Drake grinned at the perpetual blush on the poor boy's face. He almost felt bad for the powerful sorcerer, having such a pale complexion made it hard to hide embarrassment and humiliation. He didn't feel bad, though. Because, honestly, the pink tint was too bloody cute to even comprehend. He chuckled, turning on a booted heel to continue their trek to his lovely abode.

"I mean it yanno," He offered, worming his hands into the tight pockets of his pants. "The _whole_ bloody bit."

"About what?" Dave asked, eyebrow quirked up. "Sorry, but you lost somewhere between your accent and your clothes."

Drake chuckled, shaking his head as he suddenly took a sharp turn into the large, fancy building he'd come to call home. "Cute, Dave. Very cute."

"I have my moments," He shrugged casually, following the taller man into the extravagant lobby, and scowled under a few sneers. "But seriously…"

"I admire you," Drake stated again, waving politely at the receptionist as he strutted by, heading straight for the elevators. "Really, I do. Brave. Smart. Absolutely _no_ clue. Adorable. Thick-headed—At least, from what I've seen. You've got brass, trainspotter. Real brass."

Dave only understood half of what came out of the older man's mouth as they climbed into the elevator together, and he resigned himself to not wanting to know everything he said. "Right. So, you admire me. Cool?"

"Very cool," Drake looked down at him, like he was daft, and grinned. "You do remember that I'm _famous_, right?"

"Oh, yeah, I remember." Dave grumbled slightly, flashing back to their first encounter in that boys' restroom. "It was high school all over again, and that look on your face when you realized there was someone who _actually_ didn't _know_ you? Priceless."

"You sure you're not a Morganian, pet?" Drake asked, the nickname rolling off his tongue before he had chance to stop it.

"Positive," Dave ignored the 'pet', but his cheeks didn't. A splash of rosy pink had Drake smirking like a predatory fool.

Before they knew it, they were on the top floor and the metal doors slid open with a pitched 'ding'. They walked out together, falling into a strange sync that—if other people saw—looked like it had been practiced. Soon, they were standing outside Drake's gold, penthouse, double doors. Pausing, Dave looked up at Drake with a half-cocked smile.

"Here you are," He said, shifting uneasily, not really sure how to say goodbye to someone you saved the life of. "See you around. O-or something like that…"

Drake laughed. It was deep and rich; Dave found himself tensing at the equally soothing and creepy chuckle. Rich brown eyes fell on his more hazel ones, and the bleach blonde leaned in a bit. "I'll definitely see you around, luv. Can't be lettin' you off on your own, I suspect. You're type just begs for trouble."

"My 'type'?" Dave asked incredulously, feeling slightly insulted until Drake leaned in even more.

And suddenly there was kissing. There were lips on his lips. And not the good 'ooo, pretty girl' kind of lips. No, they were the kinda-sorta-evil-guy who's life he saved kind of lips. Dave was completely caught off guard, and he blinked owlishly as Drake grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him close. He didn't struggle, but he didn't exactly respond, either.

After what seemed like the world's longest moment in history, the chaste lip lock broke, and Drake grinned at him like a cat that'd finally caught the canary. "You're cute, Dave. I like cute. Plus, you saved my life. I won't be forgettin' it. Ta, muchly..."

And then he was pulling away and walking into his house, shutting the door with a wink and leaving Dave to gape and blush and panic alone in the hallway. A few seconds passed before he groaned and face-palmed _hard_. Hissing, he rubbed his temples and stalked back toward the elevator, muttering under his breath a quick, "_Fuck_."

* * *

tbc.

reviews always welcome


	4. Chapter 4

Dave was starting to wonder if he'd ever get sleep again. Or if he'd just have to have a mental break down to get a day of rest. His hands shook as he formed another fireball, and Balthazar attacked from all angles. He had to keep on defense. He had to be completely prepared at all times. Any moment of inattentiveness could mean another wound Veronica would have to heel later.

A plasma ball flew at him, and he tossed the fireball back to counteract it. The plasma dissipated into a fiery gulf and smoke wafted in the air. Dave was tense. Unusually tense for a normal spar between master and apprentice. He was exhausted. He could barely see straight. They'd been at it for hours. He swayed on his feet and another, larger plasma ball was coming straight at him.

His vision blurred in that instant, and his entire world tipped upside down. Within seconds of emitting a low growl; his eyes flashed green like his ring used to and he sent a whirl of elements past the plasma ball and at his teacher. Both men were hit and flew back harshly with identical grunts. Balthazar's held more pain, though.

Veronica flew from her spot, rushing over to her lover as he lay, squirming in pain on the stone floor. Burn marks marred the flesh under his layers of shirts, and he gasped in anguish as she ran her fingers delicately across them. She healed him with ease; the wounds quickly fading into nothing, and Balthazar's pain easing. They looked at each other, smiling in relief, and he pulled himself up to kiss her gently.

"Goddamnit," The words being hissed out tore them apart, and their loving gazes darted over to where Dave was curled up, rocking in pain. "God_damnit_."

"David," Veronica whispered, struggling to get to her feet so that she could reach her adoptive child.

She was about to reach him when someone else got there first. Strong hands lifted Dave against an even stronger chest to cradle him close. The brunette leaned in, burying his face against soft, dark material and sniffled pitifully. Accented words were whispered in his ear and hands ran over the part of him that hurt most. A faint light glowed there, cupped in Drake's hands, and seemed to ease whatever ailment Dave had because soon hazel was staring deeply into brown with gratitude while Drake returned it with concern and relief.

"You alright, luv?" He asked softly, running a hand gingerly down Dave's pale face.

"Yeah," He said shakily. "I'm okay."

"You still hurt anywhere?" He asked, eyes scraping over him, looking for any sort of left over injury. "I can make it better."

"No," Dave shook his head, already gaining his mind back even through the fatigue. "No, I'm not hurt anywhere else."

Drake nodded, smiling gently before he ran his fingers through Dave's hair. "Ready to get up now, pet?"

The younger man hesitated, not wanting to leave the warm comfort of the Drake's hold, but eventually started to struggle to his feet. He helped him, accepting most of his weight, so that he could stand on his noodle-like legs. Drake guided him gently over to a chair and settled him down in the seat. After a moment of fussing, the bleach blonde turned his attention to the two master sorcerers.

"What in the _bleeding_ hell were you thinking?" He snapped, dark eyes narrowed dangerously at Balthazar. "You could've seriously hurt him, yanno."

With a sudden flare of light, Drake was being flung back, and landed against one of the stonewalls with a sick crack. Balthazar advanced on him, face drawn up in anger. He struggled against the magick hold he was caught in, and a flash of his own power's light broke the hold. He dropped to the ground, stumbling a bit on designer shoes before he cast a blocking charm just in time to defend himself from a plasma ball.

"Are you _mad_?" He hissed, ducking as sparks flew.

"Who did you kill?" Balthazar growled, dark eyes narrowed as he threw another attack. "Who's power source are you wearing?"

Drake rolled out of the way of yet another plasma ball and landed with a grunt. "I'm not wearing a power source!"

And just like that, all attacks ceased. There was a silence so thick that it was like a San Francisco fog. Balthazar stared, eyes wide at the man on the floor, his hands still in position, but his magick fizzling out in shock. Drake stared back, less surprised and more angry, his blocking charm still hovering around him nicely. The show down didn't last for long as Drake slowly climbed to his feet and dusted off his clothes.

Veronica hovered near Dave, who had just about passed out, and was watching the scene with squinted eyes, "I thought…" He paused as the men looked over, his voice slurring with fatigue. "I thought I was the only one who could use ringless magick."

Drake smiled at him gently, shaking his head, "S'what most sorcerers believe, luv. Nothin' to worry 'bout, though. On the side of good nowadays, me."

"I might've let you hang around here before because I thought you weren't a threat, but—"

Balthazar was cut off as Dave crawled to his feet and swayed a moment, blinking rapidly past the dizziness. "You're good now?"

"Sure am, pet." He stated firmly, taking a few steps towards the obviously dicky boy. "For you, I suspect. Saved me an' all. I feel obligated to stick around and fight on your end of the stick. Generally win, you White Hats do. Might as well, right?"

Dave squinted harder at him, and it was as if the floor was rocking back and forth because he suddenly had to grip his desk to keep balance. Drake tried to move closer so he could catch him if need be, but froze as Dave held a hand up. Balthazar wanted to snarl at the Morganian. Wanted to get him away from his student as quickly as possible. It seemed like Dave had other plans, though.

"Okay," He nodded, voice still slurred and raspy. "Okay."

"Okay, what?" Balthazar asked, watching as Dave slowly walked over, stumbling a bit here and there. "Dave?"

He shook his head, moving past his Master and towards the Brit. "You can stay."

"David," Veronica imposed, fidgeting nervously. "Are you sure?"

"He knows more about ringless magick than any of us," Dave said, swaying once more, and only stopping as Drake reached out and steadied him. "He's good now. He can teach me things Balthazar can't."

"You can't mean that Dave," He protested, earning a glare from the bleach blonde. "He must be lying. The prophecy said the Prime Merlinian could use ringless magick. There was never anything about a Morganian performing without a source."

"He's right, pet," Drake nodded, ducking a little so he could make eye contact with the half-awake magician. "Nothin' about me in your books. It's alright if you don't trust me—"

"I do," Dave said more firmly, but he was half positive he'd deny it when he woke up later. "I do trust you. I can feel it in you… Similar magick. Two parts to one whole. I can feel it."

"What're you talking 'bout, Dave?" He asked, frowning slightly. He'd always been able to do ringless magick. It was honestly nothing new. He never knew why, but he always knew he could.

Dave slumped a second, his eyes rolling back, and all three adults in the room tensed. Suddenly, Dave was standing there, but he wasn't Dave. His eyes were glazed over in black, and they glimmered with a deep omen. A deep, frightening omen.

"_Prime Merlinian… there is not just one. Too much power to have in one body. It must be shared,_" A commanding voice flowed from Dave's mouth, and Drake blinked, looking over at a shocked Veronica and Balthazar. "_The Darkness is coming. The Prime Merlinians must be prepared._"

And then Dave was collapsing, and Drake was catching him. He cradled him close as he came to within seconds, hazel eyes blinking up bleakly into deep brown ones. He smiled faintly, not able to hold it back when he was so tired. Blinking lazily, he yawned, and Drake almost jumped when he felt a hand on his cheek.

"You have such pretty eyes," He muttered, his own glazed over orbs swimming with fatigue. The next thing he knew, Dave was out like a light.

**tbc.**

**review.**


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a month since Dave had extended the Prime Merlinian prophesy to two people. While it had been slow going, Balthazar had come to trust in Drake as the blonde helped Dave build his skill. It seemed as though Dave had zero recollection of any event after he'd been hurt that day, but it didn't matter—it was in the Book, now. There was no changing it. Drake and Dave were the Prime Merlinians, and there was nothing anyone could do to change it.

Balthazar had taken to training Dave simply in spells and potions. He couldn't offer the ringless technique that Stone could. The two men grew to be close friends over the time they spent training, and Veronica often wore a secret smile when she watched the two of them. At first, Balthazar had been confused—Why was she so giddy about the two of them working so closely together? Drake was not to be trusted. It all made since one day, though…

Drake and Dave had been blasting away at one another playfully while Balthazar and Veronica watched, just in case. If only for a moment, Dave had been distracted, and one of Drake's attacks had hit him dead on in the chest. Balthazar had gone to jump in; ready to blast Drake into another century, but Veronica's hand on his shoulder stopped him. The bleach blonde raced over to Dave, swooping down and cradling the shaking boy close. There was the smell of blood and burnt flesh in the air and Drake had apologized so much it was almost ridiculous. Veronica had a watery smile on her lips as she watched Drake heal the younger boy, and it was then that Balthazar heard her mutter "Animus Materia". It was then that Balthazar completely understood everything—no matter how much he didn't want to.

So, now Drake was apart of their patchwork family. It was awkward sometimes, and the Brit would get in a tizzy—his accent so thick and slang so tangled that no one knew what he was saying. Dave had begun to understand, though. He would laugh as Drake threw a tantrum over scuffed snakeskin boots, or a potion gone completely wrong when it turned his spiked hair blue. Balthazar watched as their relationship slowly evolved.

Dave had been so nervous around Drake at first: sputtering, flushing, and fidgety. After a while though, he'd become accustomed to the teasing and taunting that Drake was so very fond of. He'd come to enjoy the banter that passed back and forth between them with an ease that would be envied by anyone. After the first week, Drake and Dave had taken to walking each other home, and on weekends would go off and do something together—whether it was a bar or a movie didn't matter. They would just joke about Dr. Who and be on their merry way.

That's when Balthazar had realized Veronica was completely correct in her prediction. His apprentice was destined to be with this gaudy, overdressed prat of man. As much as it irked him to admit, he liked the idea of them together.

"Oi!" Drake hissed, ducking an attack sent by the wiser sorcerer. "Watch it, yeah?"

"Pay attention, then," Balthazar shrugged simply, trying to fight a grin off of his face and losing terribly.

Dave barely glanced up from where Veronica was teaching him how to use Tarot cards. It wasn't an unusual occurrence for Drake to fight with Balthazar. He smiled softly at the sight of Drake going for cover as his master lit up another fireball. Chuckling to himself, he turned his attention back to the cards that Veronica was shuffling.

"He's very cute," she muttered, glancing at him from under her lashes, and internally reveled at the blush on his face.

"Yeah, for a guy," Dave replied, watching her fan the deck out before him.

She giggled, and his eyes darted to her in question. Shaking her head, she gestured to the cards, and he picked three. Before he could flip them over, she snatched them away and set them aside. Shuffling again, she separated the deck into three piles and started to flip the cards over.

"The first is your past," she said, flipping it over to reveal a beautiful design of a dark armored knight riding on a horse. "The Dark Horse. Someone so unexpected receiving the gift that you have… You certainly are a dark horse in the race of life, David."

"Is that a…" He paused, eyes darting over to Drake and Balthazar when he heard a grunt of pain, but they were both fine. "Is that a good thing?"

"Etiam, David," She smiled brightly, flipping the next card over. She grinned at the sight of the two lovers. "Ah… Your present is looking up, David. Even the cards are predicting the arrival of your soul mate."

"But those are lovers," He muttered. "I don't have a lover."

Veronica giggled, "Maybe not in body, David. But in the soul… You are already intertwined with this person. It is destiny."

He gulped, but nodded.

The woman patted his hand before going to the last deck. Flipping the card over, she gasped in horror. Standing abruptly, her eyes widened, and she called out for Balthazar. The Black Death card stared up at her, the Grim Reaper standing proudly in the picture of a ground littered with bodies. Dave stood up, too. Mostly in fear.

Balthazar was at her side in an instant, "What is it, dearest?"

She pointed, hands shaking, at the card on the table.

* * *

"I can't believe this," Dave mumbled into his scarf bitterly. "This is such crap."

"It's not crap, luv." Drake replied, but even he had a frown on his face. "They just want to make sure your safe."

Dave froze, glaring up at the older man, "So they're making me stay with you? Under constant supervision?"

Drake tried not to wince at the disdain in the boy's voice. He'd been quite fond of him since he met him, but after spending all this time with him—he was quite sure he was well on his way to being in love. Dave was perfect in the perfectly non-perfect way. The way he stumbled and muttered and talked about science like it was _actually_ interesting. The fact that Dave was avoiding talking about the kiss he'd stolen, however, told him that he was alone in his interest. The poor boy had no idea what to do with himself.

"Aww…" Drake said, pausing to look at him as bitter sarcasm laced his voice "You've got me all gutted. Didn't think you'd be so grateful about me opening my doors to you."

Dave sighed tiredly, eyes straying to the ground as his anger died down, "I didn't… I didn't mean it like that."

Drake gave him a one up, lips twitching at how snoggable he looked. "I know. Just like to give you a hard time, is all…"

A silence fell on them again, and the noise of others danced around them. Drake sighed softly, edging towards the youth, trying not to scare him off with all his might. He slung his arm around his shoulders, and Dave's eyes jumped to meet his in surprise. He flashed him a heart melting grin, and Dave blinked, hazel gaze darting from his eyes to his lips. Drake could've read it wrong, but he had a feeling he didn't.

"Here's the deal," Drake said, steering the boy around. "Let's get a jar and then hit home. I'm knackered. You're knackered. We both need a bloody long kip after today, and the spare bed in my house is blissful. Sound good?"

Dave was still staring at him as he was guided along through the crowds, "S-sure. You're paying for the beers?"

"A'course, pet," Drake winked at him, waving to a few pedestrians that recognized him. "What kind of date would I be, if I didn't pay?"

He caught the deep blush that set fire to Dave's cheeks, and he was so very tempted to swoop in and claim the lips that were set into a firm line. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he had to take it easy. Poor little trainspotter didn't even realize he was into blokes, yet. Couldn't push the subject.

* * *

Dave woke to sore muscles. It wasn't an unusual feeling for him. However, it _was_ unusual to wake up with a headache, booze-breath, and wrapped in silk sheets. He frowned as he shifted and found his jeans still on and his button-up shirt with the buttons torn off. That was… odd, to say the least. He tried to clear his mind; he tried to remember what had happened after Drake had dragged him into that bar. The only thing he could recall was that British people drank their beer weird. Seriously… Warm?

That just wasn't natural.

He snuggled deeper into the mattress, enjoying the lack-of-lumps with a cooing noise and a smile. That was, until a tan arm snaked around his hips and tugged him tightly to a firm chest. Yeah… That wasn't supposed to happen. Ever.

The next thing he knew, he was screaming and falling out of the bed, and Drake was groaning in annoyance, "Shuddap, you ponce. 'M bloody hung over, and you're _not_ helping."

Dave gawked and gaped and realized that his buttons hadn't been _torn_ off, but had come off when someone had ripped his shirt off. But who had ripped it off? He couldn't…

"Wh-what _happened_ last night?" He asked with a squeak.

"Bloody hell," Drake grumbled, rolling to the edge of the bed so that he could stare dryly at the boy on his bedroom floor. "Got tossed, didn't we? Did I ever tell you how adorable you are when you're drunk?"

Dave yelped, jumping to his feet. "D-don't say that! Firstly— _not_ adorable. And second? You got me _drunk_?"

"I didn't _get_ you anything," he said with a roll of his eyes as he lay back on the—were those _gold_ sheets? "_You're _the one who wanted to try _every_ liquor in the soddin' place."

Dave's hazel eyes widened in disbelief, "Did _not_!"

"Did so."

"I don't believe—"

"Don't _have_ to, do you?" Drake snapped, sitting up slowly on his bed, and Dave noted that the older man was still in his leather pants and his purple silk shirt hung off one strong shoulder. "I'm not telling you to _believe_ me, Dave. I'm saying it _happened_."

The smaller man paused before he nodded. Drake seemed pleased as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up with a low grunt. A tired hazel gaze followed the Brit's movements subconsciously, and Dave licked his lips as taunt muscle was stretched under sun-kissed skin. Drake didn't seem to notice—or, if he did, he didn't say anything.

"Um…" Dave muttered, a faint blush staining his cheeks as Drake looked his way with a bored expression. "Well… What… What else happened last night?"

An evil grin played on Drake's lips as he leered at the poor boy, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"W-well… Yeah." Dave nodded, not catching the lecherous undertone. "I kind of _would_ like to know if I made an ass out of myself. Or if I bet my first born child during a game of strip poker."

Drake's eyebrow shot up as he padded across the large room and he chuckled softly. "Done that before, have you? _Naughty_ boy you've been, David."

Dave's blush only got deeper.

Drake rummaged around in his dresser, searching for some god-awful shirt to wear for the day. The poor physics grad didn't even know what hit him when Drake simply dropped his silk shirt to the floor to reveal muscles that any movie star would kill to have. Dave gawked. Quite obviously. He stared in awe as Drake pulled out a simple black t-shirt and turned to face him with a bored expression.

However, when he spotted that look on his face, he couldn't help the predatory grin that spread on his. He prowled forward; hair mussed just enough to appear as though he'd had a rough'n'tumble in the sack. Which, if he hadn't been the one in bed with him, Dave wouldn't have doubted it. Dave snapped his mouth shut and gulped as the bleach blonde stood before him, mere inches away. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer, and he was pretty positive the _entire_ _building_ could hear it.

"Mornin', luv." Drake said, reaching out to thread his fingers through Dave's unruly hair. "Sleep well?"

"I um… I—" Dave gulped again, shivering slightly as the ginger touches on his head eased the pain there. He didn't see the soft glow coming from Drake's palm, but he could feel the faint tingle of magick in the air. His voice practically failed him, and he had to whisper as an excited panic shot through him. "What are you _doing_?"

"Getting' rid of all the achies, ain't I?" Drake mock-whispered back. "Can't have you being all distracted during training, can we? That type of thing gets you hurt."

Dave seemed to accept the answer. He nodded and let the older man comb his fingers through his hair. Truth be told, the experience was quiet bone liquefying. Eventually, his eyes fell shut, and he leaned into the tender touches that hovered around the crown of his head. A soft moan escaped him, but he didn't notice. He didn't even notice when he was being walked backwards slowly but surely towards the bed. He also didn't notice when the back of his knees hit the edge, and he back so that he was sitting on the fluffy mattress, hands still easing any pain he'd ever felt in his mind. Another groan left him, and he leaned forward, his forehead pressing against the soft cotton of Drake's shirt as the older man smiled amusedly from overhead.

Those magick fingers edged their way down, working out all the tension he held within himself. It was a lot of stress being a sorcerer in training—and a destiny changing one, at that. Light pressure was applied to his face, thumbs running _just right_ over his cheekbones as the other digest worked the anxiety out of his constantly clenching jaw. His lips parted with a gasp as the hands went lower, gently working the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. He was completely limp and under Drake's effortless control. _The man knew how to use his hands…_

And _that_ little thought had Dave's eyes shooting open as he jerked away from the electric blue glow on Drake's fingertips. His jaw clenched as his teeth grit tight, and he gave the Brit a suspicious look. Drake's eyebrow has shot up in surprise, and his hands were still hovering where Dave's head used to be.

"Problem?" He asked politely.

"Not at all," Dave replied breathlessly, edging away from Drake before he got up off the bed and stumbled past him. "Just that… Well, um… We should probably get going. You know… To the lab?"

Drake looked almost dejected for a moment, but it was gone before Dave could put any thought into it, "Right… Don't wanna keep the old git waitin'."

Dave watched as Drake moved jerkily across the room. He frowned as the other man grabbed his leather jacket and pulled it on with a deep sigh. Rich, brown eyes turned on him, and he shook under the intensity. They stood there a moment, staring at one another, and Drake strode forward—and Dave suddenly felt the urge he'd been feeling for weeks. He wanted Drake to kiss him like he did that first day. He really, _really_ wanted to kiss him.

Suddenly, his own jean jacket was being thrust into his hands, and Drake was appearing annoyed and expectant. "Shall we? We've got a schedule to keep and I have places to be. Can't spend all my bloody time with a trainspotter like you… It'd ruin my image."

"R-right," Dave ducked his head, trying to hide his own disappointment and completely missing Drake's. "To the lab."

"Don't really know why you still call it that," Drake said off-handedly as they walked to the door. "It's not really a lab anymore—"

* * *

"So…" Dave sat before Balthazar and Veronica, staring blankly at their serious faces. "Horvath is going to try and _end_ the _world_? He can _do_ that?"

tbc.

review.


	6. Chapter 6

Drake remembered everything from the night before. Every little detail. He savored it. He savored it and craved more of it. Of Dave's coy glances from across the bar the entire night. Of having the smaller man pressed tightly to him as he practically dragged the poor, drunk thing back to his home. Of the way those hazel eyes watched his every move from his precarious spot on the edge of the bed as Drake fussed about. Of the way those lips felt brushing chastely with his and the smooth skin that tingled under his fingertips. It was unfair that Dave had passed out not long after Drake had joined him on the bed. It was unfair that the bleach blonde had already gotten Dave's shirt ripped open and now could do nothing about it.

So, he'd curled up around him. Comfortably. Happily. Sharing body heat where he should've been sharing body fluids. But he was content to just hold him for now—image, be damned.

He watched from his seemingly casual position against one of the walls. He watched as the older sorcerers sat Dave down, faces stony and ominous. He watched as Dave took all of the information in, a blank slate falling over his face; Drake couldn't even begin to know how to peal that mask away. He watched as a small tremor ran along Dave's body until his was sitting straight, the weight of the world settling heavily on his shoulders once again.

"So…" Dave sat before Balthazar and Veronica, staring blankly at their serious faces. "Horvath is going to try and _end_ the _world_? He can _do_ that?"

"Etiam," Veronica said, her face contorted with worry as she stared at the boy she'd come to love over time. "He's already begun to put his plans into action. We can feel it. It's written in the Book."

"And we couldn't find out about this plan until it was already mid-process?" He asked, voice still hollow; Drake scowled darkly at the sound.

"We weren't aware of it until now," Balthazar replied. "I'm so sorry, Dave. I know I promised that no one else would die, but—"

"There's always casualties in war," he practically whispered, and all Drake wanted to do was swoop in and protect Dave from all the evil in the world.

Balthazar grimaced. He hadn't wanted his apprentice to have to face something like this again for a long time. He hadn't wanted him to face something like this at all. He had wanted to keep the promise he'd made only weeks earlier. He didn't want Dave to have to face the darkness like this—to lose the witty optimism that seemed to glow from under his skin because of the things he would have to face. Because of all the horribleness that happened in their world.

Veronica sensed his anxieties, her powers on high in order to make sure David was emotionally stable. Which he wasn't. He was confused and frustrated and afraid. She bit her lip softly, hand coming to rest over Balthazar's in his lap, and he glanced at her questioningly. She returned the look with a slight shake of her head.

Turning his attention back to his apprentice, he was surprised to see a nervous but determined look evolving of Dave's face. His brow was furrowed in thought, and he was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he obviously tried to piece something together in his head. Drake's brow quirked up at the sight—he'd never seen Dave when he was plotting, planning, and thinking.

Hazel eyes flitted up to meet Balthazar's, and the young man opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before he went back to pondering. Balthazar was about to ask what it was his apprentice was thinking about. Demand if he was planning something stupid and genius like he had with Morgana. He was about to refuse any plan the young boy had—he wouldn't let him get hurt—when Dave created something.

Veronica gasped as the little ball of light floated soundly in the air—it was beautiful. A faint green color glowed from within, and heat rolled off of it in waves. Drake took a step forward from his spot- as if he was being tugged by an invisible force- towards the magick in Dave's hands. His dark eyes gleamed as he drew near, and so did Veronica's and Balthazar's. They were being drawn to it—as if it were a magnetic force for sorcerers.

Just as suddenly as it was there and hovering and pulling them in—it was gone. Dave clasped it in his hands, extinguishing this effervescent light, and causing a wicked backlash as the other three snapped out of it. Drake waddled on his feet for a moment, trying to blink past the fogginess in his mind; it helped most when he concentrated on the worry lines on Dave's face.

"David," Veronica said breathlessly, hand clenching in Balthazar's. "What have you done?"

Biting his lip, he let out a strangled sigh before he rubbed his head in frustration. Balthazar was still staring at him, eyes curious and astounded. Finally, Dave peered up through thick lashes, his hazel gaze conveying something ominous.

"I actually made it by accident," he muttered, fidgeted slightly, his legs bouncing like he was a drug addict going through withdrawal. "I was just… fiddling around. Seeing what I could do. I didn't mean to make it."

Balthazar's brow furrowed. "Dave… _What_ is it?"

Drake approached the jumpy man cautiously, as if he were afraid Dave would bolt. "Can't be anything good if he's this nervous about it, you git." He said, but it was a half-hearted insult; all he wanted to do was protect Dave.

"It… Well, I wanted it to simply _block_ someone's powers for a while," Dave replied, his anxious gaze drifting up to Drake as the older man placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You know… Give me a chance to think while they couldn't attack…

"But… but it turned into something else." He gulped, trying to absorb as much strength and comfort possible from Drake. "It turned into _stealing_ someone's powers for a while. For a long while. It turned into a sort of… weapon. It… _hurts_ the person. Kind of… sucks a part of their soul out. The magick part."

Balthazar stood abruptly, and Dave winced away. Drake squeezed his shoulder, willing the boy not to be scared as his master's nostrils flared in outrage. The room seemed to shiver, causing Dave to press in closer to his magickal counter-part.

"_Have I taught you nothing_?" Balthazar hissed, a plasma ball forming in his palm. "_Are you really this ignorant_?"

"I—I didn't mean to," he stumbled over his words, standing with his hands out placatingly. "I didn't even want to invent this thing—and it's not like I'm ever going to _use_ it—"

"Do you know what you've _done_, David?" Balthazar asked condescendingly, as if speaking to a child. "_Do you_?"

Veronica climbed to her feet then, too. Her gaze was soft but somehow scolding on her lover's. "Calm down this instant, Balthazar. It was an accident. Accidents happen."

"_Veronica_," he snapped. "He should _know_ better. He's the Prime Merlinian, for _Merlin's sake_."

"And he's not the only one, you yabbo." Drake snarled, placing himself between Dave and the other two sorcerers in the room. "And _hey_, I was a Morganian."

"And I threw some plasma balls at you, as well." Bathazar retorted, a feeble attempt to defend his anger. "Dave's my _apprentice_. He should _know_."

"I should know _what_?" Dave asked, stepping past Drake, much to the older man's chagrin. "That I'm not aloud to fool around with magick? Isn't that what I'm _supposed_ to do? Master my skill?"

"No—_Yes_, but when _I'm_ around to _help_ you—"

"You're not always going to be over my shoulder, Balthazar!" Dave said firmly and it echoed across the walls. "If I'm going to defend this world—" He cast a quick glance at Drake. "If _we_ are going to defend this world from the evil and darkness and _whatever_, then I'm going to _have to_ know how to do it _myself_. Without you."

Balthazar seemed to bristle at the statement. He felt betrayed somehow. Or putout. All he knew was that he was angry and that his student seemed to think he was no longer needed. His jaw clenched slightly and the plasma ball extinguished as Veronica took his hand with pleading eyes. He was hurt, and he couldn't have stopped the resentment that boiled under his skin even if he tried.

"If that's how you see it, then fine." Balthazar nodded resignedly, and before anyone could protest, disappeared from the room.

Veronica sighed softly, shaking her head—yet, a wistful smile played on her lips. "He's such a child sometimes. Always overreacting…"

Drake scoffed slightly, finally relaxed now that Balthazar was gone. "Hence 'yabbo'. Which he is one, most of the—No, _all_ of the time."

Veronica let out a small laugh before she approached Dave with open arms. "It's alright, David. It will blow over once I talk to him. I promise."

He nodded, but shied away from the affection; Drake frowned at the kicked-puppy look on his face. "Thanks. Could you do that?"

"Etiam, David." She smiled and faded away.

The large, stone lab fell silent. Drake studied Dave from behind, trying not to be distracted by the sight of his arse, and instead trying to focus on what was ailing the poor boy. Tilting his head, he watched as Dave turned towards him, scrubbing his face tiredly for a moment. Dave seemed exhausted.

"You alright, pet?" Drake asked gently, taking the few steps the separated them. "You seem a bit dicky."

" 'M fine…" he muttered, leaning his head against Drake's chest as he tried to sort out the chaos in his life. "I just… I thought maybe it would help. I thought maybe we could use it to stop Horvath… Damn it, why am I so _stupid_."

"Oi, _oi_," Drake scowled, tipping Dave's face up to see tears of frustration welling in those hazel eyes he enjoyed so much. "Don't go sayin' silly things like that. You're _not_ stupid or an idjit or anything of the like. You're smart and funny and wonderful. Don't go lettin' anyone tell you or make you feel otherwise."

Dave sniffled pitifully, and he pulled his face away, trying to avoid eye contact. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I very well do!" He replied, slightly putout that Dave thought he didn't know him well enough to see him for what he was. "I _see _you, you soddin' trainspotter. You're bleeding brilliant and the world would be lost without you. Just because daddy's throwing a hissy doesn't mean you should go and feel down on yourself and the like."

Dave finally looked back up at him, a perplexed look coming over his face as if he was trying to listen to a chimpanzee speak. Drake rolled his eyes, laced his arms around the smaller boy's waist, and pulled him close. Very close. Drake had to think about his grandpa in drag in order to make sure he didn't scare the poor lad off.

Dave tensed in the embrace, not quite sure what to do with his hands as Drake held him. Eventually, he settled for slightly awkwardly clutching the soft cotton of Drake's shirt. The older man smirked into brown hair, his chin resting on top of the boy's head as he hugged him close. Dave didn't know why, but for some reason, he felt safe there. He didn't know if it was because of the fact that they were both two halves to one whole—or if it was because of his strange, he-didn't-like-to-think-about-it-but-it-was-budding attraction for him—but he certainly knew that Drake fit around him perfectly.

tbc.


	7. Chapter 7

Wind whipped around him. Normally, he'd feel a calming sense of peace and relaxation. However, the thought of his student royally screwing up had his skin itching. He couldn't seem to chill out. Balthazar felt like he'd failed somehow as a master.

Dave was young and terribly impressionable. He was naïve and far too trusting. As much as it hurt to see, Balthazar knew that Dave would have to learn his lessons on his own. He would have to grow out of that perfect, sweet innocence—and that hurt. It hurt to know that someone so untainted would have to be tarnished in order to keep the world a safer place.

His jaw clenched tight as the smell of the ocean caught in the air. His toes just barely hung over the edge of the steep cliff that hung over the crashing waves below. His anger was comparable to the massive force over the water slamming against ancient stone. He was angry at everything. At Dave for being so naïve. At Veronica for making him so soft. At Merlin for practically cursing the poor boy he now had to bring into a world of magick and madness. At Horvath for being a jealous prick.

He was so, so angry…

"Balthazar," her voice hummed out gently, and her touch was just as soft on his arm. "He didn't mean to."

"I know," he sighed, shaking his head, his dark hair falling in his face. "That's the problem. He didn't mean to…"

Veronica frowned as she sidled up next to him, linking her arm with his as she leaned her head onto his shoulder. He took comfort in the action. He tried to absorb all the heat her body gave off while the water tossed and turned below and the wind bit at his cloths and skin. Something that would usually make him feel better was just making him feel rather empty.

"…He's so strong, Veronica." Balthazar chuckled, but it was cold. "He's _so_ strong."

"He was just trying to help," she muttered, lacing her fingers with his.

"He is helping," he replied. "I'm just not sure who… What he's made—what he's capable of—I would never wish his fate on anyone. But I'm mostly sorry that it's him that has to go through it."

"You care for him," she tilted her face up, gracing him with a small smile.

"And he has to go through so much," he ignored her comment, but she knew anyways. "Do you know everything that he'll have to go through? What trials he will have to face? What if he fails? What if he gets hurt? What if—"

"Balthazar," Veronica whispered, cupping his cheek so that he would look at her. "We cannot go through eternity wondering about the 'what if's… We'll never survive that way."

"He'll never survive," he snapped back. "He needs to understand that everything isn't daisies and roses—It will always be life or death for him. _Always._"

"_Balthazar_," she hissed, and his eyes finally truly met hers. "Stop this. Please. He needs you now more than ever. He's lost in this new world. He _needs_ you."

"He needs time," Balthazar said, his rough hand coming up to brush against his cheek. "He needs more time than I can give him. I should have been training him his entire life… I feel as though it might be too late—"

"Enough," she hushed him, a finger over his lips. "My love… You have to try."

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her palm. "I will, Veronica. I promise you. I promise him."

* * *

"—And then it's like the entire room is _spinning_!" Dave exclaimed with a goofy grin, raising his drink, and not even noticing as the amber liquid sloshed over the side.

"Prolly because it _was_ spinnin', luv." Drake chuckled, his arm draped around the smaller man's shoulders.

"I _know_, right?" He replied excitedly.

Drake was happy to have Dave happy again. The fact that it had taken a little… inebriation to get that to happen didn't matter all that much. All that actually mattered was the fact that Dave was pressed tightly to his side in the private booth they shared at the back of the bar. All that mattered was Drake was slowly joining Dave on the road to drunkenness.

Dave quickly downed the drink in his hand, and noticed the fact that they were both running pretty low in the alcohol department. His normally hazel gaze had blown out to something darker as the night had progressed. His little trainspotter got a bit of a calculating look on his face before he grinned and leaned in closer to Drake. If the Brit minded, he didn't show it.

"We need more drinks," Dave slurred softly, fingering the cardboard coaster that was lying on the table in front of them.

"_I_ need more drinks," Drake chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "_You_ need to slow down. You're goin' to soddin' pass out on me."

"Will _not_!" Dave said, pulling back slightly and rubbing his head where Drake kissed him.

He had the cutest blush that bloomed over his cheeks as he seemed to pout and slump against the seat. Drake was sad for the loss of contact, but he didn't want to push his luck with the lad anymore than he already was. He knew he was taking advantage. He felt a slight sting of guilt churn in his gut as he recalled how distressed Dave had been only hours before.

Dave had been distraught after his teacher had left. He'd been self doubting and vulnerable. Drake had tried his hand at comforting—and he'd ultimately succeeded. Then he'd suggested they go out. And not long after that? Dave had gotten utterly shit faced. Which was extremely amusing. But he knew that any action he took would only be hindered by the fact that Dave was, in fact, completely _tooled over_.

Damn it…

It wasn't long before he'd slung his arm around the smaller man's waist and lifted. Dave had given him a confused look, but his eyes were glazed and fogged over from the effects of the alcohol. He'd been limp and compliant as he was tugged to his feet. Granted, limp compliancy wasn't the easiest to walk with.

But they'd made the trek down the block to his five-star condo. The receptionist had given him a knowing look, and he'd smirked at her. She'd seen him bring plenty people home—men and women, both. It was another thing to see the same person a few days in a row. And a completely other thing to see that Drake wasn't the one drunkenly going along. She'd shaken her head at him, not suppressing the smile that bloomed on her face. The famous were always the strangest, she always said.

In the elevator, Drake had lost his grip on Dave, and the smaller man had drifted to the floor of the elevator with a huff. His eyes had peered up at him through dark lashes, and his head lolled to the side. Drake would be damned if he didn't look extremely kissable right then. With a slow sigh, he slid to the floor as well.

"I can't believe you got me drunk again," Dave said, rubbing his face tiredly. "You're just so… Just so…"

"What am I, pet?" Drake asked, watching as the elevator climbed floor after floor.

"You're just so… perfect." Dave pouted, and Drake snapped him an incredulous look.

"Perfect?" Drake laughed self depreciatingly. "I'm evil, I am. Getting you drunk like this… Could do bad things to you, yanno."

"You won't, though." Dave said, leaning into him. "You won't do anything bad."

"And how do you know that?" Drake asked amusedly, combing his fingers through Dave's dark hair.

"Because we're the same," he muttered, taking his hand and tracing the lines there.

Drake watched as blue sparks seemed to fly at where their skin touched. He was momentarily distracted by the beauty of it—until the bell chimed overhead, letting him know they'd reached his floor. Gripping Dave's hand, he hauled the boy to his feet, and they made their way to his door.

The elevator doors had shut behind them, and they were halfway to the entrance of Drake's suite when Dave stopped abruptly. The bleach blonde had turned around; their hands still locked, and found Dave staring intently at him. Those hazel eyes seemed so much less fuzzy as he simply stared.

Drake gulped self consciously, and then glanced down at their interlocked hands. There was a soft glow coming from between their palms. It seemed perfect. It seemed ethereal. When he finally glanced back up, Dave's eyes made his breath hitch. There was something… deeper there. He'd never seen anything so breath taking in his life before that moment.

"David," he whispered his name softly and tugged on the other boy.

He stumbled forward, stopping a mete breath away. They stayed close like that for a long time, the gentle glow growing brighter in their entwined hands. Drake's lips hovered just over his, and he could swear that the entire world could hear his heart beating. He was elated that this was happening, but somehow he felt he was still taking advantage. Sure, he was a bit tipsy, and Dave seemed to be sobering up pretty fast—but it didn't seem right.

Yet, it seemed perfect.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me," Drake breathed, reaching up with his free hand to thread his fingers through Dave's hair.

He leaned his forehead against the boy's. Dave didn't withdraw. In fact, he seemed to inch even closer, if possible. There was practically nothing between them, but it still seemed like too much. All Drake wanted to do was take those pouty, awkward, fact spewing lips with his own, but he wouldn't…

Dave would have to make that move.

* * *

Horvath was giddy. He would never admit it, but he was positively elated at the moment. Everything was falling into place. Everything was finally going his way. Morgana was out of the way. He had immense power. He had a foolproof plan.

He chuckled to himself, leaning back in the leather chair that he lounged in. Staring out the window, his gaze slid up and down the Eiffel Tower, and he knew immediately that he would destroy that first. As soon as all the pieces fell into place, he would begin the spell—and so far, the pieces were all falling perfectly.

"Sir?" A posh accented voice called out to him, and he turned to face his blonde haired, blue-eyed apprentice. "There's something I need to show you."

"What is it?" Horvath asked boredly as the young man sidled up to the desk and set a large, leather bound book down. His apprentice quickly began flipping through the pages, and when he landed on the right one, Horvath couldn't help the smile on his face. "Well… Isn't this a _pleasant_ surprise? Good work, Ethan."

His apprentice beamed at the complement, his light eyes gleaming with a wicked little something. "My pleasure, sir."

Horvath reviewed the page again, smiling crookedly. "Good work, indeed."

* * *

Before Dave even knows what's happening, he's pressed back against Drake's bedroom door. He didn't even get a chance to catch his breath until Drake's mouth was on his, devouring, and he quickly decided that oxygen was overrated anyways. He knew that this was rushed—that he was slightly intoxicated and that he shouldn't be doing this. Not that he didn't want to. Just that he shouldn't.

But he pushed back against him. He pressed up as Drake held him tightly, pinning him to hard, polished wood. Heat was coiling somewhere deep inside him, and _dear Merlin_ what was Drake doing with his tongue? It had delved into his mouth, and was quickly tangling with his. His heart thumped rapidly against his chest, and he wished that he could remember how to breathe.

Drake had to literally drag his mouth away from Dave's. Goes to show that once you finally get what you want, it's extremely difficult to let it go. He groaned at the lustful, clouded gaze Dave shot at him from under those dark lashes, and quickly leaned down to pepper kiss on perfectly pale flesh. As he made a scorching trail down his neck, he nipped softly at Dave's collarbone, and the younger man mewled, his hips jerking forward.

"Do that again," he commanded breathlessly.

Drake simply complied. He bit there again before kissing back up his neck. To his jaw. To his lips. He didn't think he'd ever—

"Drake," Dave muttered, lips just brushing his. "We can't. I'm not—"

"Just one more," Drake replied, sealing it with a deep, heart-wrenching kiss.

Dave moaned, arching into him. He'd never felt this way before. Not with Joanne Hudson his junior year of college. Not with Becky. He didn't know if it was because Drake was the Yin to his magickal Yang—or if it was because the Brittish icon was completely drool-over-able. He was leaning towards a mixture of the two.

It all felt so right. The way Drake's hands slid up under his shirt. The way their mouths, their _bodies_, worked together in perfect harmony. He'd never felt anything like it. He didn't want to lose the sensation, but it was all so overwhelming. It was all too much. It was _too_ _much_…

Drake pulled back panting, his forehead still lightly touching Dave's. "I swear, you're going to be the death of me, pet… You're so soddin' perfect."

"I d-don't…" Drake could see how lost Dave was. He could practically smell it. But he just couldn't keep himself from grinding against him gently. It took all the control he'd ever had in order to keep from screwing the boy into his mattress. He rocked his hips forward again, and Dave tossed his head back, groaning. "_Drake_."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Drake muttered against Dave's heated skin. "I need you, Dave. I need you so bad."

"I can't." He replied deliriously. "I can't. I can't. I can't. _I can't_."

"I know," Drake said, but his kisses continued. "I'm sorry. I know."

"We have to stop," Dave whispered, gripping his shoulders tightly, his blunt nails digging in even through the cotton of his shirt. "We… have… to… Oh, right _there_."

Drake rolled his hips against Dave's again. The pressure between them just kept building and building and _building. _Eventually, they were going to explode. Drake's hands slid down his sides to grip his hips. With amazing speed, he quickly hoisted Dave up, and the other man wrapped his legs around him. Their pelvises were aligned perfectly, and a rhythm was quickly found between grunts and groans.

They were hot and sweating and writhing against each other. It was perfect and it was madness all at the same time. Dave knew he shouldn't. It could ruin their blooming relationship. It could make things unbelievably awkward. It would… He lost his train of thought as Drake somehow managed to get Dave's shirt off. Drake smelled like danger and trust and chocolate. He couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else, and he didn't want it to stop. He never wanted it to stop. His eyes squeezed shut as he let sensation take over.

Drake's rhythm had faltered when Dave had started gasping his name out like a mantra. With a soft grunt, he rocked against him harder. Longer. Dave bucked against him, groaning wantonly. The younger man tossed his head to the side, lips parted as his panted, and the sight of him nearly had Drake coming undone. He had this beautiful, powerful man so close to oblivion, and he'd never been happier to be on the edge of that dangerous cliff.

He laced their fingers together, trusting Dave to be able to keep himself up as they worked together. Moved together. Blue and green sparks scattered around when their palms met, and it made the liquid fire in their veins run faster and hotter and it was damn near unbearable to be so close yet so far at the same time. Dave's eyes were squeezed shut tight as this all seemed to overbear him. Drake buried his face in the crook of his neck, moaning as he thrusted up.

"Dave," he bit out between pants.

Dave merely whimpered, his body reaching the peak of all that it could take.

"_David_," Drake tried again, slowly his movements, trying not to push them too far. "Look at me. I need you to soddin' open your eyes. Open those bloody eyes, pet."

Dave whined and grinded his hips down as his eyes fluttered open. He squirmed beneath the intensity of Drake's own gaze. Something seemed to snap between them, and as their mouths collided, they came together. All Dave knew was that he could swear he felt something glorious begin inside him. Drake must've felt the same thing because they were suddenly pressed _so tight_ and they were sharing breath and it was perfect and Dave was pretty sure that even their _heartbeat_ had synchronized.

In the end, all that mattered was them being together. All that mattered was their intertwined hands.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait. I was not kidnapped, but instead accosted by things like school essays and studying for the SATs. So I'm terribly sorry for the lateness. But I can't promise you that there will be a quick update any time soon. Probably another three weeks. So… Terribly sorry.

I hope you enjoyed this. I wasn't going to put the above scene in… but I figured you all deserved it.

Much love

Review

Tara


	8. Chapter 8

He woke feeling fully and completely rested. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so loose and carefree. He knew he wasn't asleep anymore. He knew that he wouldn't be falling back to sleep, but he just couldn't move himself to open his eyes. He couldn't bother himself to remember where he was or why… All he knew was that he was being cradled back against a warm body, and it felt right in every single way.

Fingers traced invisible shapes on his bare skin, and he moaned softly at the touch. Burying his face in his pillow, he inhaled the oddly intoxicating scent of Polo Black and chocolate. A strong arm wrapped around his waist, tugging him back against a firm chest, and he wasn't even bothered by the fact that it was obviously a man he was in bed with. Didn't mind at all…

Dave's eyes snapped open in panic. He was in bed with a _man_. He was in bed, being caressed by a _man_. He was in bed, being caressed by a man, and he didn't even feel mildly disgusted. In fact, he was pretty sure all the heat in his body was slowly pooling in his nether regions. A frightening notion all on it's own.

He shuddered as a gentle kiss was pressed to the nape of his neck. He felt tingly all over as those hands seemed to roam his body like they owned it. Like they owned him. Like they were trying to memorize it before Dave would have his inevitable flip out. Dave shifted in their hold, pressing back against them more fully as that sinful mouth made a searing trail down his neck and across his shoulder. His hand pressed over the other man's, stopping it from traveling any lower than his stomach, and a shock ran through him as he nipped at his skin.

A surge of magick ran through the both of them. It was blue and green and it made them both shiver with want. Dave's eyes were quickly drooping at the heady feeling, but he knew he would have to get out of the situation eventually. He also knew that he really, _really_ didn't want to. He felt the other man's hardness press into him. He felt how his own manhood stirred as he rocked his hips back. A hot groan met his ears, and he was suddenly pulling from their embrace.

Quickly rolling, he fell out of the silk sheets and onto the carpeted floor with an awkward thunk. His chest was heaving and he was flush as he stared up at the bleach blonde in the bed. His hazel eyes were clouded but clear all at the same time—Dave wanted him, but knew better without the influence of alcohol. Drake was staring down at him, brow quirked up in amusement as he leaned over the edge of the large bed.

"… _This_ is bad," Dave muttered, his eyes having a hard time obeying his mind as they trailed across the shirtless Brit.

They took in the taunt muscle. The perfectly sculpted—Dave shook his head, trying to clear his mind enough to not be overcome with lust. It was pretty difficult as Drake perched above him with that sexier-than-though smirk on his face. Oh… This was definitely bad.

Drake couldn't take his eyes off of him. He knew he was freaking the little bugger out, but he was just so bloody delectable. His cheeks were pink as he bit his lower lip, light eyes trying—and failing—to avoid everything Drake. He was half naked and panting softly on his floor. Who _wouldn't_ want to fuck that? His abused lower lip was being worried between his teeth as his cheeks just got redder and redder. Little spark of green were still dancing off of his skin as he tried to collect himself.

It took _all_ the power Drake had not to join him on the floor, and screw him until he didn't know his own name anymore…

"This is very, _very_ bad," Dave said more clearly this time, his voice taking on a panicked tone.

Drake blinked. Then he blinked again. Dave was panicking. This wasn't new. It wasn't exactly a _good_ thing, but it wasn't new. The green sparks shot off his skin here and there as he scrambled to his feet. Dave quickly assumed the pacing position, but Drake's eyes never left the perfect, pale skin that was still being presented for him to eat up with his gaze. He just wanted to _taste_ it one more time—

"_Drake_," Dave snapped at him, clapping his hands in front of the Brit's dazed face. "Pay attention, would you?"

Drake tried. Really he did. But with so soddin' close—Well, he just couldn't be held accountable for his actions.

The hands that were still hovering in front of his face were quickly grabbed by one of his own. His dark gaze shot up and locked on with hazel eyes as he tugged the smaller man forward. Dave sputtered, stumbling until he was pressed against the edge of the bed. His gaze never faltered as the poor boy flushed in embarrassment. Drake tilted his head, leaning up so that his face hovered inches from Dave's. His thumb brushed over the young man's hand.

Dave's heart double-timed. Their magick flared. Blue and green sparks collided. Dave bit his lower lip anxiously, and Drake's lips twitched up in amusement. His hazel gaze couldn't stay still. It bounced around, fluttering from the silk sheets, to the exposed Brit before him, and back to his eyes. Drake tugged him a little closer.

Dave was practically squirming. "This is—"

"Bad," Drake finished for him, lips just barely hovering over his. "I know."

He closed the fractional gap. Lips pressed to lips, and everything felt right again. Dave's toes curled in the carpet he stood on, and he inhaled sharply as that hot mouth meshed with his. His hands flexed and relaxed in the firm hold that Drake had on his wrists. Those lips felt so perfect pressed to his. So electrifying.

Drake's other hand came up to cup his jaw, as the older man deepened the kiss. It wasn't as frenzied as it had been the night before. It was languid and persuasive and he'd never felt this way before. He'd never felt like he'd die without someone so close—without someone kissing him like he was the most important person in his life.

"I don't see what's so bad about it," Drake muttered, pulling back if only for a moment.

Dave whimpered as that mouth pressed back to his, sealing off any sort of response his could make. Fingers curled behind his neck, angling his head so that the blonde could have better access. Dave shifted so that he was leaning on the edge of the bed, leaning into the touches of the man before him—seeing as his knees were so weak he could barely function.

"Pretty good if you ask me," Drake whispered, nipping at Dave's lower lip. "Soddin' great, actually. Spectacular."

Dave let out a low whine, his hips subconsciously rocking forward. How could this man have such an effect on him?

"Besides," Drake continued, his lips tauntingly brushing over Dave's. "You weren't sayin' a thing about it bein' bad last night."

Drake was leveraging himself up, pressing himself closer and closer to Dave. He couldn't get enough of the taste of him. The feel of him. The sound of him. He felt like an addict. There was a fire burning low in his gut, and he knew that the only thing that could possibly put it out was Dave. And Dave didn't seem too opposed at the idea…

Worming his hands out of Drake's grasp, he made quick work of threading his fingers through the Brit's perfectly mussed hair. Their lips and tongues and teeth collided. It was an erotic dance that they had somehow perfected in less than twelve hours. It was desire pulsating between them. They were falling together. They were drowning in each other.

Quite abruptly, Dave drew back, panting with a hand on Drake's chest. "Drake, stop. We have to stop."

"No we don't," He snapped back, pressing his mouth against Dave's—only to have the smaller man turn his head away.

"Yes, we do." He replied, sounding almost hysteric. "We can't do this."

"_Yes_, we _can_." Drake nipped at his pale jaw.

"This is dangerous, Drake." Dave hissed, trying and failing to put space between them. "_Extremely _dangerous."

"Agreed," Drake said reasonably, and Dave had a flash of disappointment and hope run through him. Maybe Drake was coming to his senses—something that relieved and depressed Dave all at the same time. "There is a soddin' dangerous situation in my pants, and I know just the cure. You."

Drake kissed him harshly, swallowing the squawked response he had. Before he knew it, he was tumbling back into the bed with him. Silk sheets felt cool and perfect against his hot skin as Drake pressed down on him. He felt pinned and weak stuck beneath him, but it was a strange sensation of giving himself up to the other man. Of giving himself over to Drake.

Drake's thigh slid between his legs, rising until Dave's rocking hips caused the younger man to moan wantonly into their kiss. Drake undulated above him, their members rubbing against each other through the material of their jeans. Hands were all over the place, caressing and touching and mapping the other man out. Drake caught Dave's wrists and pressed them down against the pillow, taking control of him completely and totally. Ready to devour him.

Dave whimpered as their lips parted. His hazel gaze was clouded over with lust, and Drake smirked as sparks flew across their skin. His hips rolled forward, and Dave hissed, back arching perfectly. The heat was rising between them, and sweat glistened on their skin as they worked together. Leaning down, he bit the younger man's neck gingerly but possessively. Dave was quivering and wanting and writhing beneath the other man.

Drake chuckled against his skin, "Merlin, you're perfect."

"I am not," he blushed deeply, a moan escaping him as they worked together. He was breathless as Drake worked his body over in ways he'd never felt. "Don't stop… _Drake_—"

He grunted above him, brow furrowed in concentration. Releasing one of Dave' s captured hands, his fingers traveled down his pale skin. He made quick work of unbuttoning and unzipping his pants before reaching in unhesitantly. Dave cried out, eyes wide in pleasant surprise as his fingers wrapped around his stiff cock. Heat completely took over him. His entire being shook as Drake slowly jerked him off. He could barely breath as passion and sensation took over. Drake kept eye contact, wanting to see all of the little emotions that played through the man's mind.

It wasn't long before Dave bucked beneath him, moaning his name as he came. He clutched at the older man's shoulder with his free hand, writhing against him. His gaze became heavy lidded as he started to come down from the peak. Drake was still achingly hard, but he smiled triumphantly against Dave's neck as he rode out the end of his orgasm. Lips brushed against his ear as Dave panted softly into it.

"Not bad at all," he chuckled, much to Drake's surprise.

Smiling brightly, Drake looked up at him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Was it good for you?"

Dave was about to respond, eyes alight with mirth, when the gold door that lead to his bedroom burst open. Both men looked over with wide eyes as Veronica stood there, her own gaze slowly widening in shock. Her jaw sort of dropped a moment as she took in their compromising position. Dave's relaxed form disappeared instantly, and he was suddenly didn't seem so comfortable with Drake pinning him down to the mattress.

"Balthazar is on his way," she muttered, turning from them to give them privacy. "I'd get presentable if I were you."

* * *

Dave wouldn't even look at him. Every time he tried to get close, he would inch away. They were fully dressed in clean clothes, presentable, and watching Balthazar pace in front of them. Dave's face was painted in a permanent blush, and Veronica had this knowing look pasted on hers. All Drake wanted was to finish what they'd started. All Drake wanted was for Dave to _look_ at him.

"We're going to Europe," Balthazar stated suddenly.

Drake's gaze snapped up to the older man. "You soddin' git—You _are_ joking, right?"

"Not at all," Balthazar snapped back, leveling a half-hearted glare at the young magician. "We're going. You're going."

Dave's curious gaze peaked up through long lashes, and it gave Drake little comfort. He felt a sense of panic run through him. It had been a long time since he'd been in the motherland. A long time for festering angers to grow. A long time for old friends and family to figure out a way to exact revenge for something as silly as dying their hair blue.

"Bugger," Drake muttered, hiding his face in his hands. This wasn't going to be good.

Tbc.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you all enjoyed it. I sure did. Review

Much love,

Tara


	9. Chapter 9

Drake was pissed.

No. Understatement. Drake was fucking _furious_.

It had been three days. Three very long, very bad days, and Dave hadn't spoken more than two worded sentences to him. He could barely look him in the eye. What they'd done together seemed to hang over them like an ominous cloud. It made his skin itch. It made his gut churn as he waited and waited for the shoe to drop.

His dark eyes trailed after him. Watched him. He knew that Dave knew. He could see it in the way the other man tensed up every once in a while. See the way his hazel gaze would skitter over to him. He could see the worry there. Could see the desire.

All Drake knew was that Dave was avoiding him. And he'd be damned if it wasn't annoying as all hell.

"Remind me again," his voice cut through the car snidely. "_Why_ exactly are we here?"

"Horvath is here," Balthazar snapped back, glaring over his shoulder. "Isn't that enough?"

"Hardly," Drake huffed, sinking deeper into his seat. "Would really rather stay _away_ from that bugger."

Drake didn't miss the way Dave's eyes slid over him through the rearview mirror. He let himself revel in it for a moment. He smirked as the Merlinian's cheeks colored and his attention fell back to driving down the busy road.

"You don't have a choice anymore, Drake." Balthazar said, twisting around in the seat. "You're a part of the prophecy. You have to."

"This is where I call bullshit, Balthy." Drake snarled, sitting up in his seat, only to have Veronica press a calming hand to his chest.

Her gaze pinned him in as she pressed him back. He felt her power react gently with his, and he gulped. If only he'd had this growing up. If only he'd had a better master than the one he'd wound up with. If only had hadn't had to practically teach himself. He saw a loving expression drift into the woman's eyes, and he felt his heart break a little bit. She smiled softly, reaching up to let her fingers brush over his cheek. He felt the strong urge to hug her.

"Fate has her ways, Drake." She said in her strange accent. "You were brought to us for a reason. You and Dave are a pair."

The car swerved under Dave's control. There was a large amount of honking and screeching tires as Dave pulled out of the oncoming traffic lane to where he should be. Everyone in the car was braced for the worst, but it had never come so they were frozen awkwardly. Balthazar turned a questioning gaze on his student, but Dave should his head and brushed it off. He was pretending it was because of the unfamiliar driving circumstances. Right side to left side always did throw Americans through a loop.

"A pair, huh?" Drake asked, eyes glimmering mirthfully.

"Etiam," Veronica nodded, settling back into her place shakily. She didn't like these metal machines.

"Well, if that's the case…" Drake leaned forward; reaching over the headrest to ruffle Dave's hair as something in them clashed meaningfully.

Balthazar was the only one who didn't notice the few sparks that flew between them. He didn't notice the way Dave's hands tightened around the wheel. He didn't notice the knowing look on Veronica's face. He did, however, notice the clouds gathering overhead. Something was amiss.

* * *

Horvath grinned into his glass. Yes, everything was going to plan. He'd beckoned and they'd come. They didn't know that he'd beckoned them, but that was the brilliance of his plan. It would be unexpected when it happened. They'd be completely blindsided. It was a beautiful scenario that was playing perfectly out in his head.

Perfect.

"Sir?" Ethan's voice came from behind him.

Turning, Horvath looked at the young man with a smile. "Yes. What is it?"

"They're going to her place."

Horvath frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It's been written that they meet." Ethan replied, setting the Book down on the desktop.

Horvath set his glass down with a harsh thud. His bright mood grew increasingly dark as he stared at the parchment with hatred in his eyes. His jaw clenched and unclenched. Ethan watched, blue eyes cold and indifferent as the powerful sorcerer's fists curled up. A wrathful gaze caught his.

"This is _not_ according to plan."

* * *

The bright blue door was a strange sight to see. It wasn't the fact that it was a blue door. It was the fact that it was a blue door that lead into a very homey, rather old-fashioned house. It didn't fit. At all.

Dave looked up at it with a slight tilt of his head. It was… unusual. It just didn't seem… normal. He squinted at it, as if trying to make it work. It was like sticking a piece of puzzle where it didn't belong. His brow furrowed slightly, and he was so focused on the door—the very bright, very blue door—that he didn't notice Drake saddle up beside him. Drake stared at the door with worry. He appeared almost nervous. Like he'd been there before. Dave practically jumped out of his skin when their shoulders brushed.

"Wha—"

"You really are trying to torture me, aren't you?" Drake asked dejectedly.

Dave gaped at him. He tried to come up with some sort of response. He hadn't realized his avoiding him had caused the man so much pain. He hadn't realized—

Balthazar clapped a hand on the Brit's shoulder. "Sorry, Drake. We have to."

It was only then that Dave realized Drake had been talking to his master.

"Do not." Drake stated adamantly. "Could completely skip over it."

"She's the best there is."

Drake fell silent. His stare fell to the pavement and he nodded hesitantly. Balthazar seemed pleased for a moment and patted his back comfortingly. The older man walked forward up the steps, and Dave and Drake followed while Veronica hung back a bit. The three men hovered in front of the door for a second, wavering as they felt an eerie, strong presence. It was like a think, heady incense.

Balthazar blinked past the slow fog in his mind and raised his hand to knock just as the door flew open to reveal another man. He was about the same height as Drake, and he had the same lean build. His green eyes widened owlishly at them. Flushed and bedraggled, his dark hair stood up awkwardly in places like he'd just rolled out of bed.

"Hello," he muttered, collecting himself as he adjusted his jacket and tie. "Just a sec." Turning from them, he cupped his hands over his mouth and called up into the house. "Cassie! There are people here for you!"

Drake stiffened, eyes narrowing dangerously. Dave felt like maybe he'd have to restrain him. His fingers twitched at the idea and a delightful—but inconvenient—heat spread through him. As if he felt it too, Drake glanced over at him, and he inched closer to the smaller man. Dave didn't move away.

"Can't you take care of it?" Came echoing back through.

"No," The man sighed, giving Balthazar a look before mouthing 'women' with a roll of his eyes. "I have to get to work!"

"_Fine_," a trail of stomping feet came romping through the house before a blonde head poked out the door, green eyes sharp as weapons as she glared at Balthazar. "This better be good, or—"

Dave glanced at her, trying to see what made her pause. He was shocked to see her gaze locked on Drake. The older man looked like he was about ready to dart. Or hug her. Or both.

The woman stepped more fully into the doorway, hands on her hips in a familiar scolding way. "What the soddin' _hell_ were you thinkin', Drake? I _swear_, mum is turning in her grave."

Tbc.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait and the short update. I feel like I should've done more, but I'm swamped with SAT stuff and Finals. Luckily, school is out in two weeks. I should have this sucker down by the end of August at the latest- which means faster updates.

I hope you all liked this. Sorry for all the OC's. But they aren't too major in the plot line. Promise.

Review!

Much love,

Tara


	10. Chapter 10

Drake wanted to pace. Really, he did. But her cold gaze was holding him in place. It was calculating and questioning—and he didn't like it one bit. It made him feel like he was five again, and she'd caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. The tattling little witch—

"So, who exactly are you?" Dave asked with a tilt of his head.

Drake gave him an affectionate glance. The younger lad was curled up on a barstool, holding a warm mug of hot tea. He seemed honestly perplexed by what was going on between him and the other blonde in the room. Veronica had followed them into the cozy home, and was standing off to the side with the only non-magic member of their group. Cassie, the slightly—but _barely_—older woman, had her arms crossed in defiance as she glared at Drake. It made him want to fidget slightly. But he refused to give her the satisfaction.

Balthazar chuckled, cupping Dave's shoulder with an amused smile. "Can't you see the family resemblance, Dave?"

A curious hazel gaze followed his Master's. It bounced between the two very powerful blonde sorcerers in the room, but nothing but confusion stayed alight in his eyes. He set the mug down and slid to his feet, inching toward Drake with a quizzical look painted on his far too cute face.

Drake wanted to kiss him and strangle him all at the same time. Seeing him there in the backdrop of the house he grew up in was a slight shocker. It was heart warming. He never thought that he would see someone he cared so greatly for come home to meet what was left of his family. Let alone stick around for the thirty minutes or so they'd been standing there awkwardly for.

His gaze dropped to the pale yellow tiles beneath their feet. It was just as it had been the last time he was in this kitchen, arguing with his mother. His breath hitched a moment, and his brow furrowed. This was why he didn't come back here. Too many bad memories. Too many mistakes. Too many could have beens—_should _have beens. A frown marred his tan features, and he shook his head solemnly. He practically jumped out of his skin when a soft hand landed on his shoulder.

"Drake?" Dave asked, looking up with concern.

It allowed him some relief that the younger man was looking past their nights escapades in order to make sure that he was okay. That he seemed to be genuinely concerned about him. Drake let his lips quirk up into the smallest of smiles; it was soft and only meant for the younger man. Dave returned it almost reluctantly, but it warmed something inside of the blonde man as coiled tension slowly fell lax with Dave at his side.

"Dave, luv," he found a sick sort of satisfaction as a faint blush tinged the man's cheeks at the pet name—even as he gestured to the woman across from them. "This is Cassie. Cassie, this is David. He's—"

"The Merlinian, I know." She waved it off with a brief roll of her eyes, slumping slightly within the confines of her big cotton robe. "Lovely as it is to meet you, I'm really far less interested in what you're doing here. Far _more_ interested in knowing why my prat of a brother is following along in your wake."

Dave's eyes widened quite comically, and he glanced between them, again. This time spluttering slightly, stumbling along with his words. "_Brother_. You're his _sister_?"

A slightly bitter smile appeared on her face as she tucked a messy lock of strawberry blonde hair behind on ear. "The one and only. But I wouldn't expect you to know that. Haven't talked in what? Eight years?"

"Eleven." He replied, hiding his shame behind irate snaps.

"Famous now, aren't you?" She stepped back, starting to circle the small marble island that lay at the center of their kitchen. "Drake Stone. Magician. Must be nice not having any family to worry about."

Even Dave wanted to flinch away at the stinging tone. Her words were simple, straight forward. But there was such hidden venom beneath. Such a hurt, betrayed venom. Dave felt his chest ache with in, and he wanted to embrace the woman he had only just met. He wanted to pull her tight and make it all better. To heal all of her wounds.

It wasn't until he felt Drake tangle their fingers together that he realized what was happening. Another side effect of being the Merlinian was being an Empath. The power was still new—he could only really feel it if it was strong enough. And what Cassie was feeling was screaming at him to pay attention.

Drake must've known what was happening, judging by the look in his dark eyes. He swallowed thickly and stumbled back a step; not noticing concerned gazes that fell his way. Instead, he simply focused on the feeling of Drake's hand in his. Of the heat that bubbled just under their palms. Of the tingling that pricked perfectly along his fingers.

"Is he okay?" The dark haired man asked from where he was standing next to Veronica, tie loose and hanging around his neck, as if he were settling in for a missed day of work.

"Fine," Dave mumbled. "I'm fine."

There was a hand guiding him forward, hovering at his lower back as he was ushered back to his chair at the island. "You're not fine, pet. You're overwhelmed."

He opened his eyes enough to offer an annoyed glare, but it only earned him a bemused chuckle.

Drake slid the mug of tea closer to him, wrapping the boy's hands around the porcelain with extreme care. His dark eyes darted around the room, noticing the slightly smug look on Veronica's face, and the faintly agitated and impatient look on Balthazar's. It wasn't until his gaze fell on his sister that a small frown overtook his amused features.

"Don't give me that look." He muttered.

"Why not?" She tilted her head, green eyes flitting to Dave, her anger momentarily forgotten. "I think I have a right to look at you funny when you just practically grew two heads right in front of me."

"It's really not all that unusual," he sneered back, feeling himself shift closer to Dave, as if there was a massive gravitational pull that he couldn't deny or fight.

"Not unusual?" She was practically gawking at him as she leaned forward against the countertop. "_This_ coming from the man who pointed and _laughed_ when I broke my leg?"

He rolled his eyes, lips quirking faintly at the memory. "Don't be so dramatic. You took a dive off the slide thinking you were a _flying unicorn_. Any eight year old would have laughed."

"You said that eating 'Lucky Charms' would give me magic powers." She retorted quickly, eyes gleaming with remembrance, and giddiness was shared between them—faint laughter bubbled over their lips.

Dave glanced between the two of them as if they had gone mad in the last few moments. Certainly these weren't the same two siblings that had just been bitterly arguing. Certainly things couldn't have possibly settled so quickly. There had to be some catch—granted, Dave couldn't say he knew anything about having a brother or sister. He was an only child reared up by a single mother and a drunken step dad.

When Cassie scowled once more, Dave felt like things were falling back into place. "I'm still pissed at you."

"Haven't given you reason not to be."

She scanned him warily a moment before releasing a tight breathe and nodding. "What is it that you needed?"

Balthazar finally took a step up, interjecting into the conversation, and Dave couldn't help but feel like his master was trying to shove a puzzle piece where it didn't belong. "We need you to do a reading."

Her brows shot up in surprise as she looked at him. "On the Merlinian?"

"On both of them."

A flash of confusion found its way onto her face, but it was quickly replaced with dawning realization as she glanced between her brother and the young man sipping at his tea. "Both of them."

She caught Drake's eyes and searched them for the longest time, and Dave could feel unfamiliar zings of protectiveness shooting along his skin. He could feel her shock and pride trying to crawl beneath his flesh, and he shuddered before nearly dropping his mug. Drake quickly settled it onto the counter, his hand finding purchase on the back of Dave's neck to offer assurance.

"You never told me," she muttered, sounding more betrayed then ever, and Dave felt a sharp pang in his chest that had him gasping softly.

"Didn't exactly know," Drake tossed back, not looking her way, his full attention focused on the way the brunette's hand sought his free one. "Not 'til I was told. Didn't have anyone after I went the states, Cass. My master abandoned me—sixteen year old roaming the streets of New York without someone to show 'im what's what."

"You could have come home—"

Drake laced his fingers with Dave's and that familiar warmth itched and tingled at the center of their palms. "No. I had to prove somethin', didn't I? Couldn't come crawling back. Had to stay and work it out on my own."

Cassie's jaw clenched, hating the answer and the idea of her little brother roaming the streets on his own. She could only imagine what he had been through before he finally got lucky. Got famous. She wanted to hop over the counter and wrap him up in a hug. Just to reassure herself that he was there. That he was safe.

Balthazar made an impatient sound. "Listen, as sweet as it is that you two are reconciling, we really need to get on this. We're in a bit of a rush—"

"Why?" Cassie snapped at him, eyes narrowing dangerously, and Balthazar realized just how out of his element he was—and how out of bounds it was to try and push around a Seer in her own home. "Morgana is _dead_. Even the weakest of magicks could pick that up. Gone forever. She's not coming back. Can't. What's the rush?"

"Because we have something else to deal with." He grit out, his character unable to back down, even if he knew that he should. "Because the fate of the world is in the balance—"

"The fate of the world is _always_ in the balance," she hissed, and the light flickered above them as some the china began to rattle. "You come to _my home_—my very neutral home—bringing me the last of my family. I do appreciate that. But if you dare even think that you have the right to rush me into things, then you—"

Dave was watching her with wide eyes as the man from earlier took a few stride forward from Veronica's side in order to wrap Cassie up in a strong embrace. Almost instantly, everything settled, and she leaned into the comfort with a sigh. He stroked down her back soothingly, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear. Drake found himself wanting to punch the kid and welcome him into the family all at the same time.

When her hackles had finally gone down, she smiled gently up at him before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Thank you, Charlie."

He smiled ruefully, giving her a small wink. "Not a problem, darling. Any excuse to get you in my arms—"

"Charles!" Her scolding tone failed miserably as she pulled back, laughter in her eyes as she hit his chest playfully.

Drake felt Dave's fingers tighten around his, and he glanced down to see the young man's attention was focused on the pair across from them, a small scowl on his face. There was… something. Dave could feel it. Something unusual about the other man. Something not natural.

Charlie's green eyes turned on him, as if sensing his gaze, and he offered a small smile. It seemed to appease Dave, for the moment. But Drake could tell that he was still slightly wigged out.

"Well, then," Cassie cleared her throat, casting an apologetic glance their way before glaring quite coldly at Balthazar. "Why is it that you came to _me_? You've got a very powerful Seer right behind you. And a Merlinia—ah, forgive me, _two_ Merlinians that can easily examine the confines of a teacup. Why come here?"

"You're the best that there is," Balthazar replied, taking a slow step back, knowing not to upset her again. "And we need your special reading."

That statement even confused Drake as Charlie took a protective stance in front of his lover. "Not happening."

Balthazar glared at the man, and Charlie returned it full-heartedly. Drake felt Dave tremble, and wondered what it was that he sensed about the man that Drake, himself, couldn't.

"Charles," Cassie cut in softly, hand on his shoulder. "It's fine."

"It's not fine, darling." He replied, never taking his gaze off of Balthazar. "It's dangerous enough with one person—now, you're going to do two? Two of the most powerful sorcerers in the universe? I can't let you."

Veronica finally took it upon herself to speak up and find a solution. "I can act as a focal point."

Stunned gazes looked her way and she smiled gently. Dave looked up at Drake, and confusion was evident all over his face. All the blonde wanted to do was lean down and press a kiss to his lips. But he knew better then that. He couldn't take advantage of Dave while he was still on a magick roller coaster.

Later, though. He would definitely take advantage later.

"You could get trapped." Cassie replied, tone dry and warning as Charlie laced an arm around her waist. "Stuck on the other side. You could go mad."

"I've been trapped away before," she smiled gently, and Balthazar went to protest and she shushed him easily. "I would like to help David and Drake. It is a sacrifice I'm willing to make, if it comes to it."

Cassie gave her another once over, knowing the stories about the other woman. Knowing what she'd been through. What she'd done for the world. How powerful she was. Without a bit of reluctance, she nodded, and Charlie pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Let's do this, then."

* * *

"Sir," Ethan spoke softly, not wanting to incur the wrath of his master.

"What is it this time?" Horvath bit out, fingers in an iron grip around his cane. "More bad news?"

"Yes," the tall, young man spoke with sincerity, face blank as Horvath turned on him with a livid gaze. "They are taking the Spirit Walk."

Horvath's nostrils flared, and the four glasses—along with a bottle of brandy—sitting on his desk, shattered. "Find them. Find them, right now. Stop them before they can even begin."

TBC.

* * *

**A/N:** And I know… it's been, like, three months. Maybe even four. I don't know. I was just busy in Germany. And now, I'm busy with my senior year of high school. But, you know what? I'm going to keep plowing at this story. Even if it's slow going, I hope you all stay and enjoy. I'm sorry to keep you all waiting all of the time, but this story has taken on a life of it's own, and it deserves time to be written.

Guess you'll just have to go along for the ride.

Hope you enjoyed,

Review,

Love Tara


	11. Chapter 11

David felt nervous. _Really _nervous.

What they were doing was unfamiliar. What they were doing was unbelievably dangerous. To Veronica. To Cassie. To _Drake_.

He let his eyes stray to the blonde as he lit a few candles around the room, and he felt his gut clench. He'd never felt anything like what he felt when he was with Drake. It was deeper than anything he'd ever experienced before. He had never thought that he would be feeling that way about another man.

But, somehow, it made a strange sort of sense.

Both of them were such opposites. The second they got even remotely close, there was a natural magnetism. They were undeniably drawn to one another. The fact that they shared the same immense power was just the icing on the proverbial cake. But those comforting revelations couldn't quelm his anxiety. Not when he felt such a weight settling in his stomach, filling him with a terrible sense of foreboding.

A warm hand landed on his arm, and he gasped in surprise, turning abruptly. Green eyes met his, and Charlie offered up an apologetic smile. Dave felt a distinct chill run up his spine, and he could swear the hair on the back of his neck was standing up. At the instant Charlie had touched him, the faint whispers and murmurs of life he'd become so accustom to hearing, fell silent. It was as if he were alone in a padded cell.

Charlie's gaze widened, and he jerked his hand away quickly. It was too late, though. Dave had felt power within him, and not the normal kind. His arm darted out, catching Charlie's wrist in a surprisingly vice-like grip. Dark hair fell in the other man's narrow face, but not fast enough to hide the eerie yellow flash in his eyes.

Trembling, absorbing the utter silence, Dave leaned in to whisper. "What _are_ you?"

Charlie opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut again before he could form a response. It was as if something was keeping him from speaking. Something was forcing the words away.

"Lovely, isn't it?" Dave turned, and Cassie was hovering a few paces behind him, a wistful smile on her lips.

Dave noticed that the others in the room had their focus on him; they seemed rigid with concern, and he couldn't fathom why. He didn't see what they saw. The way he was shaking like a drug addict going through withdrawal. They way his eyes had dilated. They way his breath was coming short and ragged.

She drifted closer, slowly, as if trying not to frighten off a skittish animal. "That silence. It's lovely, isn't it?"

Dave inhaled deeply, taking in the lack of everything; he briefly wondered how he'd ever managed to make it through the day with so much power humming through his system. "Yes… How—?"

"Charles is a gift," she responded, eyes straying to where her lover stood, his own gaze meeting hers heatedly. "My gift. A very rare and special one. Magick doesn't affect him. But he does… _feed_ off of it. Feeds off of power. And of life."

Dave turned his gaze back to Charlie, taking in the way he seemed to be glowing from within. He felt a pulling sensation, like something was being tugged right from under his skin. The palm of his hand was on fire where he was touching the other man, and a wave of dizziness came over him. He could feel his heart start to slow, and colors began to blur and swirl—blackness fading at the edges. Charles hissed and jerked away, slipping easily from Dave's hold.

The young brunette choked, stumbling back as voices and feelings and _power_ threatened to overwhelm him. Drake was there in an instant, catching him and lowering him carefully to the hardwood floor. His temples pounded and he felt about ready to vomit. He felt the shortness of his breath, and his sudden fear was swallowed up by shock. Fingers stroked soothingly through his hair, and a calming voice cut through all of the chaos.

"Luv, focus on me," Drake commanded, voice cracking with his worry; Dave thought it sounded like china breaking. "_Focus_, Dave. _Look_ at me."

His eyes rolled forward, and he gasped as their hands touched—his green sparks overpowering Drake's blue ones. "You're _soo_ beautiful."

"Know that, pet." Drake smiled weakly, fingers squeezing Dave's as the younger man's body began to fail him, heart slowing even more. "Not nearly as pretty as you, though."

Dave scoffed, head lulling over to look at Cassie as she settled quickly next to them. "He's such a sweettalker."

"It's always been one of his gifts," she muttered, reaching out to check his vitals.

She let out a small noise as Dave's powers lashed out at her, singing her fingers as she wrapped a hand around his wrist. Closing her eyes, she let her own magick leak out to mingle with theirs. In that moment of seeing how badly off he was, she could feel everything. The bliss. The turmoil. The dying of his heartbeat. And it was just the tip of the iceberg.

Retracting, she gave her brother a shaky nod. "Do it."

He didn't ask her what. He could read it in her thoughts. He'd felt it when their magick had brushed. He knew what he had to do.

"Do _what_?" Balthazar was enraged, struggling against Veronica's hold as his glare bounced between his fallen student and the man huddled in the corner.

It was supposed to be simple. They were supposed to just get the prophecy and go. Instead, his apprentice was lying limp on the ground, eyes fogging more and more with each passing second. Instead, his pupil was slowly dying right before his eyes. It was more trouble than it was worth.

He watched as Drake took a deep breath, untangling his fingers from Dave's to come up and cup the young man's jaw. The room began to tremble, and lights flickered, as the young sorcerer seemed to suck the energy right out of the room. Balthazar had only seen this happen once before, and he froze as the bleach blonde pressed the _Vita Sanctus_ to his pupil's lips. A pulse erupted though the house, knocking everyone off of their feet and shattering the windows as it shook the entire foundation. A flash of blinding light accompanied it, sending heat rolling over them in overwhelming waves. It was like all the oxygen had been sucked up, and in that instant, Balthazar was certain they were all going to die.

But then it was over. The light receded into them, and air flooded the room. By the time things had stopped shaking, Balthazar was struggling to sit up, eyes trained on his trembling student. The brunette's fingers were clutching at Drake's shirt, and he was staring up with wide eyes. Then sound seemed to invade, starting as a dull hum as it worked its way back to a deafening cacophony. Car alarms blared angrily outside, and Balthazar briefly wondered if the mundanes would come up with some rational reason for the strange surge.

He turned to Veronica, offering her a hand to help her sit up, and he froze when he spotted the tears in her eyes. Her hand hovered over her lips as she stared at the pair in the center of the room. He didn't understand it until he heard her muttered _Aeterna Nectunt_. He didn't understand until he looked back and saw a part of Drake's _soul_ drift passed his lips and over Dave's. It was a small, florescent ball that brushed through Dave's mouth and melted on his tongue. It filled him with warmth, and his fingers curled tighter into the silky material over the blonde's chest.

The significance of this was not lost on Balthazar. It was astounding. Something that could only ever be performed by a sorcerer well versed in his or her magicks. Something that he was shocked the Brit even knew. On one hand, he was extremely angry—Drake was tying himself to his student more securely than ever before, and it was something that wouldn't easily be broken. On the other hand, he was extraordinarily proud—that Drake was giving so much of himself over to save Dave's life.

"Wha—?" Dave looked up at him breathlessly, shuddering as his heart began to thud strongly in his chest once more.

Drake laughed in relief, resting his forehead against the younger man's. "Look at you… Right as rain."

Their bated breath was what filled the room as Dave's cheeks turned a brilliant shade of red. His eyes darted over to where Balthazar, the person he saw as his father, sat watching, a strange expression on his worn face. Mortification swamped his system, and his grip turned from clinging to pushing as he tried to get space between them. His shame was irrational, but it was there, and it was choking him. Drake frowned, but allowed him to move away, not wanting to stress their precarious relationship anymore.

The sound of a pained groan caught their attention, and Cassie was scrambling across the floor over to her lover in the corner. He was curled in on himself, fingers clawing at his back as he tried to fight off the pain rippling across his skin. Four sets of eyes widened at the sight of large, feathered wings protruding from his back, and Balthazar was on his feet in an instant.

"Are you trying to kill us all?"

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for the lateness! You all know that I'm a busy person- applying to college and keeping my grades up and dealing with the throws of life and all. I hope you all enjoy this and are sated for the moment. I'll try to update again soon.


	12. Chapter 12

Dave stared at the counter top, eyes fixed on the pale yellow of the tiles. His jaw clenched, and he seemed to fold in on himself, afraid to look up. Afraid to see Balthazar's disappointed—or, worse yet, _disgusted_—stare. He felt ashamed and mortified because he was sure that his teacher was judging him. Judging him like any other father would upon finding out that their son was gay. He felt anger bubble up within him, and he thought of nothing short of strangling Drake.

An odd smelling mug of tea was slid into his line of vision, and he blinked at it. Glancing up hesitantly, he saw Veronica's gentle smile. She knew that he felt embarrassed for the reasons of a young man who was still far too uncomfortable in his own skin. She suspected that his up bringing had something to do with his timidity on the subject—that his real father had abandoned him at an early age, and he didn't want to lose another. It was understandable, his fear. However, she hoped that he would overcome it soon.

"What is this?" he sniffed at it, nose wrinkling cutely at the strange smell.

"Ginseng root and honey," she replied and smiled as he made a face but drank it anyways. "It will help stabilize your system after such a shock."

He snorted ruefully into the mug. It was just he, Veronica, and Balthazar in the small kitchen. He didn't want to think about how his mentor was reacting to Drake's kissing him, but he could feel the older man's rage. He could feel it burning just under his skin, and he faintly wished that the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

What he didn't know was that Balthazar wasn't angry at him, but at Drake's sister for putting his apprentice in danger. For allowing such a creature stay in a house where magickal people frequented. He wondered how he hadn't noticed the veil of confusing, confounding magick that had hovered around the man in the first place. In retrospect, he felt stupid. Which only added fuel to the fire.

It wasn't long until Dave felt Drake and Cassie enter the room. They both were way and tired, but there was a distinct thrum of pleasure coming from Drake. It made the brunette's skin tingle to have him so close, and he momentarily hated him. Hated him for making him feel so unnatural in his own skin. Hated him for being the only one that could make him feel complete. A warm hand landed on his lower back, and he arched away from the touch with a cool glare. Drake's confusion zipped up his spine before he shut down the link that was growing stronger between them. He tried not to focus on the wounded look the blonde man gave him.

Instead, he turned his attention to his Master and the rage he pointed at Cassie, "_What_ were you thinking? Having something—"

"He's my protector," she snapped quickly, unwilling to let this man push her around in her own home. "He was sent to me by the higher Powers when my gift was revealed. Unlike everyone else, I _don't pick sides_. I see the good and bad in both. My predictions don't always give the best outcomes—they're honest. Sometimes people can't handle that. Sometimes they try to 'shoot the messenger', as it were."

Balthazar blinked, not expecting such a reply, and Veronica came over to his side and linked her arm with his as she spoke. "Do you really need such protection? Do you not fear him?"

A wistful smile played on her lips. "You'd be surprised as to what kind of people come in to see me. And Charlie is… Terrifying. But I love him."

Dave took the next moment to interject his own question. "Yeah, but what is he?"

He received skeptical looks at that, and he shied away from them sheepishly. Though his cheeks were burning, and he was far too conscious of Balthazar's quirked brow, he didn't back off the question. He tried not to take comfort in the way Drake edged closer to him for support.

Eventually, Veronica smiled. "He is _Deus Quasi_."

"What?" Dave asked, no less confused.

"An angel, luv." Drake offered, and Dave could feel the heat of him pressing a bit closer. "My sis had snagged herself the realistic equivalent of a bloody angel."

That explained the sudden appearance of wings. It didn't explain why everyone was so worked up about it. From what he knew, angels were a _good_ thing. What would be the big deal about keeping one?

He voiced this, and Cassie rolled her eyes. "Do you teach him anything?"

Balthazar was about to take offense when Drake cut him off. "Angels aren't good or evil, pet. But they are dangerous—to us in particular."

"Why?" He decidedly ignored the petname.

"They feed off of magick," he replied, leaning against the counter with a nonchalant shrug. "Suck it right out of you. Often times it'll have no effect; you'll still be just as strong, if not a little lethargic. But with us? All of that power packed into one, tight, little spot? Well, we're an All-You-Can-Eat buffet to 'im, aren't we?"

Dave turned his light eyes on the young woman, brow furrowed, "then why keep him around when we're here?"

"Didn't know did I?" She smiled self-depreciatingly. "That you would show up. That his barriers would come down so quickly. That you would touch his skin. There were too many variables, and I honestly felt more comfortable with him here."

He nodded in understanding, but his teacher wasn't so soothed. "It still doesn't explain why you'd keep him here. How many of your clients have wound up missing because of that—"

"_None_," she hissed, getting defensive of her lover. "He's never done that, even when he first showed up on my doorstep, untrained and barely human. And he doesn't _have_ to now because he's going through metamorphosis."

Balthazar faltered.

"Metamorphosis?" Dave asked, innocently unaware.

"He's becoming human. Mortal," she said, voice softening. "He's giving it all up. For me."

A lull in conversation fell. Because, really, what can anyone _say_ after a revelation like that? The undying _love_ Charlie must have for her… It was breath taking. Envy clung at the edges of Dave's reality, and he desperately wished for someone like that. His heart nearly stopped again when he felt Drake's hand at his back. Felt his presence press in, and he choked up.

Shooting up from his seat, the chair clattered and screeched across the floor. Drake stepped back quickly, shocked at the sudden movement. All attention fell to the youngest man, and he felt ridiculous under their gazes. Panic was knotting low in his stomach, and he didn't think he could take it in that room for a moment longer.

"Sorry," he muttered before leaving the room as abruptly as he'd stood.

Veronica went to chase after him, but Balthazar stopped her with a hand on her wrist. She glanced at him in question, but his eyes were trained on Drake as he made his way after the other Merlinian. The older man was, admittedly, quite dense, but he knew when not to interfere. He knew when two people needed a moment alone. That, and it gave him a better chance of grilling the young woman still hovering by the door.

Pulling out a chair, he gestured for the blonde to sit across from him, and she grimaced. "Now, then… Let's talk about your angel."

* * *

He kept walking. He hadn't meant to, but by the time he realized that his feet weren't planning on stopping, he was out the front door and advancing down the sidewalk. He wasn't surprised to find strange, little house's windows were repaired. It was like nothing had happened. If it weren't for the occasional confused neighbor, Dave might've even believed that nothing had.

He heard the door open and shut, a voice chasing after him. "Dave!"

The smaller man didn't slow his pace. If anything, he quickened it, and did his best to ignore the part of him that was wallowing in guilt. He knew that Drake was just worried about him, but he couldn't face him. Not when he was so terribly conflicted.

"Dave, just stop for a moment," he spoke again, tone pleading, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut and force himself forward.

He couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. Because he couldn't stand the idea of ruining what they had. Their friendship, something he held close to him, had already been treading in shark infested waters. Now, it was treading with an open, bleeding wound. Everything he'd thought he knew about himself—everything he'd thought he _felt_ was dangling precariously on the precipice of no return.

And in all honesty, he didn't think he could take that dangerous leap. Not because he didn't feel something for the Brit, but because he _did_ feel something. A strong, intense _something_. And he couldn't face that because he'd _never_ been into guys before Drake. More importantly, he couldn't _stand_ the idea of falling for the older man, only to be cruelly disappointed. Only to be rejected. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Dave, just stop and bloody well talk to—"

The smaller man whirled around, all angry and conflicted. Drake stumbled to a stop, and a finger jabbed at his chest painfully before turning into a big shove. The blonde took a few, careful steps back as Dave glared up at him. His mouth was open, and words were running out before he could stop himself.

"Who do you think you are, huh?" Dave shoved at him again, and Drake allowed it. He knew when someone needed to blow off some steam. "_Who_? You think you can just _waltz_ in to my life and turn _everything_ on its head? I don't _need_ this, you know. I don't need magick. I don't need Balthazar. And I don't need _you_."

Drake's jaw clenched. Because, really, it hurt. Because, even after this short period of time, Drake needed Dave nearly as much as he wanted him. It wasn't just because they were connected in such a strong way. It was because Drake's fondness had turned into a strong lust that had the magician walking the very tight rope between simple attraction and head-over-heels love. He couldn't stand the idea of _not_ needing Dave.

Tears of frustration gleamed in the younger man's eyes. "I had a life. A _good_ life. Full of- of science and wolf packs, a- and _not_ the end of the world or people _dying_. I never _died_ before all of this. I was _normal_. I was normal, and you all—"

"You were never _normal_, pet." Drake cut in, a façade of indifference covering up the odd mix of concern and hurt he felt swirling inside of him. "Even if you hadn't ever met us, you would have never been normal. _Born_ like this, you were, luv. So, don't go _blaming_ other people. Not my problem that you're such a trainspotter and you can't take a bit of adventure. Not sure why I even bother."

Dave fell quiet, glaring up at him heatedly; Drake saw the pain in his eyes, like he'd been slapped. It was the slightest of insults, but it appeared to be enough. Enough for a young man who'd grown up thinking that he wasn't special—that he wasn't _important_. That no one cared for him, or that he would do something to send them running. Dave's chest ached, and a tear slipped down his cheek before he had the chance to turn away.

"Yeah, I don't know why you do either," it was muttered and angry—and Drake instantly felt guilty.

Reaching out, he grabbed Dave's wrist and tugged him back until they were facing. "_Merlin_, Dave… What is it? _What_ is it _exactly_ that you're so scared of? I don't think it's Horvath. He's strong, but we're stronger. So, if it's not him then it's me."

Dave looked about to argue, but Drake pulled him closer and cut him off at the start.

"I _know_ it's me," his gaze was intense and imploring; he held onto Dave's wrist with a ghost of desperation and his skin tingled where they touched. He longed to just push past all of this and sweep him up into a kiss. "I know it's me. I don't know why, but I _know_. Doesn't make a lick of sense, mind you. We get on well enough. And not just as friends."

Dave's cheeks turned pink and he glanced away. Drake scowled and cupped the smaller man's jaw with his free hand. He forced their eyes to meet and searched for a moment.

"You set me ablaze, luv." His voice croaked, and he pressed closer unabashedly. "I'm on fire for you. _With_ you. Burnin' up with how much I want you. With how much I bloody _need_ you, Dave." Eyes widened in surprise as Drake pressed their foreheads together. "It sounds stupid, but it's true. I _need_ you. You and I are two parts to whole. We _fit_. Without you, I'm nothing. I can't ever go back to how I was before. Not without you. Not when I could have you by my side… And if that means giving you space and pretending that we were never intimate—even though it was _sodding fantastic_—I'll do it. Whatever it takes not to lose you."

Dave was shaking. Trembling as Drake's hand began to slide up his arm until it was at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He shuddered, lips parting as Drake's fingers brushed over his skin. Eyes searched his before a mouth slanted gently over his own; their tongues meeting somewhere in the middle of it as Dave's fingers found purchase on the material of the older man's shirt. It was far softer than any other that they had shared—it was desperate and scared. A pleading seduction.

Confliction knotted in his stomach, and he broke the kiss reluctantly. He found himself wanting to give over to him. He wanted to bear himself and experience everything that Drake had to offer. But no matter how much he wanted it, he was still dreadfully terrified of it.

"I'm sorry," his voice broke, hands pushing gently. "I can't. I just—I need to think, and—"

"Hush," Drake's mouth caught his again, gentle and heart-felt. Breathe taking.

Long fingers tangled in the darkness of his hair, tugging softly, and urging him to reciprocate. Dave felt his knees go weak at the simplicity of it, and one of Drake's arms wrapped around his waist to keep him steady. They were flush against one another, lips pressed to lips. There was something maddeningly different about the kiss that had the younger man's heart stuttering in his chest. Something sweet and loving that had hope blossoming in both of their hearts.

Drake broke off that time, steadying the brunette on his wobbly feet as he pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I can't lose you, Dave. If you _dying_—If you _dying_ taught me anything, it's that I'm helpless without you. I know that you need time and space to figure things out, but… But I'm here when you finally do."

If that wasn't a declaration of love, he didn't know what was. If he didn't already know what his heart stopping felt like, he would swear that it had. He swallowed thickly, taking a shaky step back, and Drake let him. Let him step further away, jaw clenching as he fought the urge to drag him back and have his wicked way with him. He paused once they were a few paces away.

"So, you're not going to up and disappear while I'm gone?" He asked, unsure and worried that Drake thought he was rejecting him.

The Brit smiled, shaking his head. "I'll be waiting on pins and needles back at the house, luv. Take a walk. Air out your head. Don't get lost. Take your time. Just… not _too_ long."

With that, Dave nodded, turned, and walked away.

**TBC.**

**A/N:** Hope you guys liked it. I'll update when I can.


	13. Chapter 13

When Drake got back to the house, he was obviously intruding on a tense situation. Balthazar and Cassie were at each other's throats, voices raised as they shouted at one another from across the small but homey kitchen. His sister appeared far more put together than the old git, but Drake could tell that she was seething under the surface. He was certain that the only reason Balthazar was still allowed in her house was because of Drake. Animosity, or not; siblings stuck together.

Balthazar himself was red-faced and enraged. He was up in arms, trying to get the young woman to see the validity of his argument. To see the importance of it. He was far more stubborn than the both of them, and he had to have his way. The world was at stake. His apprentice's _life_ was on the line. It was not something one could take lightly, and yet this girl was trying to make him wait for the predictions that could ultimately save Mundane existence.

"—and _you_!" his glare turned on Drake, and the blonde swallowed thickly. He'd been waiting for this since the life-altering kiss he'd planted on Dave's lips. "What were you _thinking_? Do you have _any idea_ how strong that bond is? What it will do to you—to the _both_ of you? And now you've inflicted it on _my _apprentice! Of all the—"

"It isn't complete," Drake cut him off calmly, jaw clenched tight. "The bond's not finished. Won't be. I wouldn't let 'im strap himself down like that. Not going to put him though somethin' like that. Want to, but I won't."

His sister fluttered to his side, taking his hand. It was shockingly affectionate, and Drake was thankful for the support. Balthazar glanced over at Veronica, knowing that she was already taking the blonde's side. She was always a sucker for a good love story, and she was certainly convinced that Drake and Dave had a legendary one brewing between them.

Teeth grit, Balthazar turned back to him. "And instead you'll inflict a _Dimidium Vitae_ on him? You'll make him feel incompletel for the rest of his life just because you—you're _afraid_ of dying for him? You're afraid of going through eternity with him, and _only_ him by your side? Well, listen up you selfish son of a—"

Drake bristled. "You _unbelievable_ twat. _Of course_ that's not why! 'M not afraid of any of that. I _want_ that. Want every last inch of him to be mine, but that doesn't mean I'll _force_ it on him. I'll die for him, but I _will not_ let him die for me."

Balthazar faltered, blinking owlishly. "You… _Good Merlin_, you're in love with him, aren't you?"

"What?" Drake sort of squawked, his cheeks coloring a nice shade of pink. "You're sodding nutters, you are—"

"No," Balthazar grinned, appearing surprisingly triumphant. "You _are_. You're in love with him. When Veronica had said that the stars whispered of true love—of _Amare Aeternam_—I'd thought she'd been jesting. I didn't realize that it was so _true_."

Veronica made a bit of a face, mildly affronted that her lover would think such a thing about something that she had told him in all seriousness. However, no one was paying much mind to Veronica. Balthazar and Cassie had their focus on Drake, and the Seer quickly followed suit. He stood there, shifting uncomfortably under their combined gaze. He couldn't help but feel absolutely ridiculous under their keen attention.

"Drake?" he glanced down at his sister's inquisitive face and swallowed thickly.

His jaw clenched, and he looked down, shuffling his feet. "Yeah, well… It's not like the trainspotter loves me back."

There was a moment where even Balthazar felt his heart break a little. The utter despair in Drake's voice was enough to make—

"Oh, shut up already," a voice came from behind him.

They all turned to look at Charlie as he came down the stairs. He was slow moving, and he winced as he pulled a shirt over his head, muscles aching in protest. Cassie rushed to his side as he stumbled, but froze when he made a gesture for her to stop. He offered her a gentle and affectionate smile, but shook his head as he brushed past into the kitchen. They watched in silence as he made his way to the refrigerator, opened it and pulled out a jug of what looked like orange juice. He opened the cap and drained a good measure out of it, cringing as he tucked it back into the fridge and faced them.

With a soft sigh, he braced himself against the counter and pinned Drake with a dry stare. "If that boy doesn't love you, I don't know what love is."

"And he _certainly_ knows what love is," Cassie muttered, blushing as her younger brother shot her a bemused look.

The comment was otherwise ignored as Charlie continued, "You don't just get power when you consume someone's essence like that."

No one missed the way Balthazar tensed up, as if ready to strike the angel down where he stood. Charlie's eyes flashed in his direction for a moment, and the room grew deathly still. In that instant, the members of the room knew that if a fight went down, it would be disastrous. Veronica moved first, hand sliding to grip her lover's arm in a vice-like hold. That was all it took to snap the small group back to the subject at hand.

"What else do you get, then?" Drake asked, voice croaking in anger and a hint of jealousy. He was envious that this being had felt Dave's essence so. That he had felt him so thoroughly that he knew of the boy's true feelings.

"Everything. Every thought and emotion. I felt every bit of him when we touched."

"And what did you find that he felt?"

Charlie smirked faintly, eyes softening as he glanced at Cassie, and she smiled at him encouragingly. "His mind, his heart, his soul, his very _essence_ is tainted with you. Every part of him is tangled up in you; you're knotted together in a way that I've never seen, in all my centuries. He's fallen for you. Hard. He's just taking a quick swim in denial."

Drake appeared impassive as the information was given, and he nodded. "Forgive me if I don't exactly believe you."

"Forgiven," Charlie's smirk broadened into a cheeky smile. "Just remember what I said when he finally tells you. I'd love to finally pull an 'I told you so' moment."

Drake pursed his lips, eyes narrowing at the creature critically for a moment before he turned to Cassie and grinned. "I like him. Try and keep him from eating any more people's magick, though, would you? Not exactly the kind of happenstances I want to make normal with my future brother-in-law."

Drake drifted from the kitchen, boots clipping against the ground as Cassie's face brightened. Her eyes darted over to where her angel stood, and he returned the look, happy to have approval of his lover's only family. Balthazar sputtered indignantly.

"It that it?" He practically shouted, anger bubbling and broiling under his skin. "Conversation over? He doesn't get so much as a slap on the wrist for nearly _killing_ Dave, and we move on?"

Drake paused in the doorway, "Yes. We've got a world to save, remember?"

"Speaking of which," Cassie cut in before Balthazar could open his mouth to shout some more. "Where exactly did you leave our savior, Drake?"

* * *

Dave sat on the swing set, twisting to and fro. He was staring dazedly at the ground, his shoes shuffling and kicking at the woodchips that are found at any small park. A breeze blew by and he shivered, solemn face scrunching up in discomfort as the cold seeped through his jacket. He sighed heavily and leaned against the cold of the chain.

He didn't know what to do. He knew that saving the world was a given. He'd done it once before, and it really wasn't all that big of a deal. He wasn't as scared as he'd been the first time. Sure, he was nervous, but he kind of knew what he was doing, now. What he was really afraid of was Drake. His feelings for Drake.

Dave honestly was at a loss. He knew that he'd never felt this strongly for anyone before. He knew that being with Drake made him feel safe. He knew that he was connected on strange, mystical levels with the older man. He knew that all he wanted to do was finally fall into bed with him alcohol free and with no interruptions.

And he supposed that knowing all of this was what scared him the most. Knowing that he truly _felt_ for Drake—that he wanted to be with him and laugh with him and bicker with him all the time. He wanted to protect him. Dave didn't doubt that he'd even put his life on the line for him. It was all dreadfully beautiful and fantastically terrifying.

Dave jumped as his phone buzzed softly in his pocket, and he wiggled it out of his pants pocket. "Hello?"

"_David!"_ Bennet's voice echoed loudly over the line; Dave briefly wondered if his phone company was going to charge him some insane amount for accepting a call while overseas. _"Where _are_ you, dawg? The wolf pack misses you!"_

"Again with the wolf pack," Dave muttered, chuckling softly to himself. "I'm, uh, I'm out of town for a couple of days. I'll be back soon."

"_Alright,"_ Bennet sighed, but Dave knew that he was still smiling. _"Want me to watch your dog?"_

"Please?"

"_You got it, man."_ Bennet laughed. There was a moment's pause before he spoke again. _"You okay?"_

"Fine," Dave stood from the swing, stretching as he did. "Just… Just a little conflicted."

"_About what_?"

Dave blushed, and he was happy that his roommate wasn't around to see it—he would've ended up being teased mercilessly. "There's this person—This _guy_… I like him, and I'm kind of extremely petrified."

"_Whoa, slow down. What happened to that blonde chick, dude?" _Bennet was always a little out of loop, but he really was a good friend. Always there when Dave needed him.

"Way over," Dave sighed and started his walk back.

"_And now you like a guy?_"

Dave winced, ready for the hating words—the same ones he had received from his father, growing up. "…yeah."

"…_Cool, bro!"_ Dave blinked in surprise at the proud tone Bennet's voice took. _"When am I gonna meet this dude? Is that who you're out with, right now? You guys takin' a little weekend getaway? Score, dude!" _

"Bennet!" Dave admonished, his cheeks burning even worse. Even his ears turned a faint pink color. "I-I'm not going to 'score', okay? But, yes, I'm with him… Aren't you—aren't you grossed out?"

"_David_," Bennet sighed, voice taking on a much more serious tone. _"Don't be stupid. There's nothing wrong with liking other guys."_

"But won't the, uh, wolf pack mind?" Dave asked, completely unsure as to where he stood.

"_The wolf pack doesn't care!"_ Bennet was smiling, again, probably at the ridiculousness of his best friend. _"We're here for you, Dave. No matter what."_

Dave's fear was suddenly nonexistent. "Thank, Bennet."

The dark man laughed, _"No problem, dawg. Just be sure to introduce me to this new squeeze of yours when you get back, okay? I still have veto ability if he's an ass-hat."_

Dave choked a bit on his own laughter, but he felt like a burden had been lifted from him as he continued down the block, the house finally back in his sight. "You got it, Ben. I'll see you when I get back."

They said their goodbyes and Dave hung up, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He felt lighter. He was still worried about his feelings for Drake and if they were truly and honestly returned. He was still worried that maybe he was just a passing fancy for the Englishman. But he felt far less intimidated knowing that he had other people's support if he needed it. He felt a warmth bloom in his chest as he paused outside the big blue door.

He thought about Drake. About his smile and his stupid one-liners. He thought about the way his eyes lit up when he talked about anything that interested him. The way he would smirk and tease Dave until the younger man was either laughing or ranting. He felt his chest constrict at the memory of his hands on his skin and their lips pressed together. His lips twitched up into a small, private smile as he thought of the blonde's words to him and the gentle way he'd tried to kiss his panic away. Of the way he'd saved his life.

He walked into the house without knocking, but the door creaked as it opened, alerting the occupants that someone was there. Balthazar entered the foyer with him as he shut the door behind him. Dave smiled bashfully at his master irritated look, and he didn't notice the knowing glimmer that was hidden behind a façade of scolding.

"Where the hell have you been, Dave?"

"I was just—"

"Dave, you're back," Drake said as the shorter man inched his way towards the living room, ready to get on with the more magickal proceedings.

"Said I would be," he offered, feeling that same timidity that he always seemed to feel around Drake.

The fond grin that he received made his heart flutter for the briefest of moments. "That you did. Get your head screwed on right, then?"

Dave chuckled, nodding his head as they all shifted into the other room where everything appeared to have been set up while he was gone. Dave took in the set up at the center, beautifully designed materials and pillows scattered about where they would be laying. Candles were lit and flickering, setting a certain intimate ambiance. "Something like that."

Long, rough fingers found his, "Good."

Dave swallowed, glancing quickly over at Balthazar self-consciously. The old sorcerer rolled his eyes and walked out of the room with a sigh, mumbling something about getting the others so that they could begin. Drake's fingers laced with his, and Dave bit his lip before giving them a quick, soft squeeze. Light eyes glanced down at him curiously, and he felt his heart jump. He knew that he was taking a chance, risking himself again, but it felt right. It always felt right with Drake.

"You ready for this?" Drake asked, concern in his voice and features. "It's bit dicky, you know."

"Yeah," Dave let out a slow breath. "Thank you, Drake."

"For what?"

"For saving me," he said quickly, cheeks coloring. "And for… you know, being so patient with me. I know that I'm not exactly—"

Lips pressed insistently against his, gentle and sweet. Dave instantly melted into it, turning so that his chest could press against Drake's. His free hand came up to cup Drake's jaw, and the stumble he found there teased his fingertips. Drake hummed in appreciation, arm wrapping around a slim waist to tug him even closer. It wasn't until someone cleared their throat that they finally broke apart.

"Done, then?" Cassie asked as she made her way in, arms full of assorted objects, and a knowing smirk on her lips.

Dave instantly saw the family resemblance, and he blushed as the woman winked at him. "Is it time?"

"Good time as any," Charlie muttered as he followed in after, finding a spot to settle down so that he had full view of the ceremony. His light eyes found Dave's, and he offered a reassuring and apologetic look. "Sorry about earlier."

Veronica came in next, skirts flowing. "Let us begin. David. Drake. Take a seat at the center."

Dave glanced up at the blonde and felt that pang of nervousness. It was slightly eased as Drake tugged him to the bedding, and he tried not to think about the fact that they were laying down in a bed together, again. They settled onto the silk material, lying side by side with their hands still intertwined. Cassie settled at their heads, rubbing her hands together, as if she was trying to warm them up. Balthazar pressed a kiss to Veronica's temple as she went to stand behind the powerful woman, ready to be her Focus during the ceremony.

Drake squeezed his hand, "You're going to have to relax, luv."

"Right, relax," Dave squirmed for a moment before he finally eased against the softness of the blankets.

Cassie placed the tips of her fingers on both of the foreheads. "_Incipit_."

Their eyes fell shut instantly.

* * *

Horvath's teeth grit in irritation, "What do you _mean_ you were too late?"

"They've begun, Master Horvath." Ethan swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry."

**TBC.**

* * *

**A/N:** I know, I know. It's been forever. I'm sorry. But here's a beautiful chapter update. I promise to update again soon. WE'RE ALMOST DONE, FOLKS! Probably four more chapters and then an epilogue. I hope you all liked this chapter, thank you for being so patient with me.

Much love,

Tara


	14. Chapter 14

David…

He was falling. Being swallowed up and sucked down by some sort of beast that had razors for teeth and a breath like fire. His own breath evaporated, leaving his chest aching and hot. He tried to grasp at lights that flew by, streaming past his fingertips. The loss nearly made him break. Nearly made him crumble and fall to pieces. Shattering. Pretty crystal pieces fluttering down like ripped butterfly wings.

So many colors. All rushing by. Painting the night sky with splashes of turquoise and maroon and eggplant. Crimson bleeding from the heavens. The stars screamed, deafening him to the point of agony. He reached up, out, grasping at the air. Begging it to—

David…

Fingers tangled with his, and sparks flew across his skin. Blue and green and _gold_. He looked up, pushed past the swirls of half maddening color, and met dark, bittersweet eyes. Eyes that spoke of want and friendship and _love_. He smiled, heart tripping in his chest. He squeezed the fingers locked with his.

Lips met. Pleasure coursed. Deep, strong, and true. He'd never felt so loved. Never belonged somewhere so much as long, strong arms wrapped him up. Heat, then. Almost overwhelming. Almost like he was falling again. But then he remembered that he'd already fallen. That he'd been in love for months, now.

They took each other. Need spurring their greedy actions. Desperation. Why was he so desperate?

David…

"I love you," words like a brand across his skin. Scalding his lips. Tearing at his throat. "I love you."

Blood poured out of a wound. The world shifted. Tears streamed just as freely. Horvath's voice hummed ominously in the background. Fear inspiring and horrid. Foreboding. He touched the fallen angel, more sparks flying. More blue, less green. So much gold. Fingers gripped at each other, slick and confusing. So very needy.

"Don't you _dare_," it echoed. Echoed and broke and shriveled into ash. "Don't you die."

Lips met. _Sorry_. _So, sorry_.

_**David**. _

The world tilted and tore itself in two.

* * *

"David!" Veronica called his name again, and he gasped.

Sobs quickly followed, wracking his lithe frame, but no tears came. Just the dry heaves of a man coming out from _seeing_. He sat up quickly, trying to scramble away. Trying to _get away_.

"Dave, luv," Drake's voice cut through his panicked state like the sharpest of blades. "S'all right. You're all right. It's over, darling."

Dave looked at him. His light eyes were blazing as he searched him over, seeing that he was alive and well. Seeing the he wasn't—

"Dave, breath." The blonde sat up, hand cupping his jaw; concern outshining the fatigue in his brown eyes. "I'm right here. We're back, luv. S'all right. I'm right here."

Dave would have cried if he hadn't been so shell-shocked. He would have grabbed his Morganian and held him close until he was sure it had all been a dream. A terrible nightmare. A vivid and foreboding omen.

"What did it mean?" Dave asked, never taking his eyes off of Drake's face. "What did it—?"

"Nothing is written in stone, Dave." Cassie replied, but she sounded unconvincing. Sounded tired and resigned.

Dave looked over at her, seeing the way she was trembling in Charlie's arms. He watched as the archangel cradled her, pressing consoling kisses to the top of her head. Drake turned him to face him again.

"Dave, she's right. Whatever you saw—Whatever you _think_ you saw… it isn't law. It's a path. The worst path." Dave realized in that moment that Drake must've had a similar experience. They'd been down there together. Seeing it together. He realized that he must've seen something horrific too. "It's not set."

But the way Cassie glanced at her brother told him something worse. The fear and despair he felt from her only confirmed it. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a shaky breath and nodded.

"Okay," he muttered. "But at least we know when, right?"

"Tomorrow. Sundown." Veronica supplied, her own vision misty. "They will try to end the world."

Dave felt his gut clench.

"But we won't let them. Will we, luv?" Drake gave him a reassuring smile. "Beat them down, we will."

Balthazar came to them, helping the three of them to their feet. He was solemn and serious. He glanced over at the archangel and his seer before looking back to his lover and on again to his apprentice.

"Then tonight we rest." He said, non-too-happy about it, but knowing it was for the best. "Tomorrow we save the world."

Charlie stood, Cassie held close like a precious item. "I don't think it wise—"

"No, we'll go. We've booked a hotel not far from here." Balthazar told him, and Charlie seemed to relax instantly. "We know she cannot get caught in the middle. The Powers would not appreciate it."

Charlie inhaled slowly before giving a faint, thankful nod. "Good luck, Merlinians."

"Thank you," Dave mumbled, trying his best to ignore the blind panic building up within him.

Cassie glanced between the two saviors, hope and desperation mixing strangely in her gaze. "Be safe… And Drake?"

"Yeah?" He looked at her sheepishly, and she gave him a watery, sleepy grin.

"I missed you."

Dave watched the way the other sorcerer swallowed thickly. "I missed you, too."

A small silence passed before any one moved. Veronica led them from the spelled room and to the foyer. Dave never let go of Drake's hand as they walked out of the blue door for what felt like the last time. Dave felt his stomach roll, and he thought of the strange vision he'd had. Thought of the fear. Thought of seeing Drake bleeding out and Dave being unable to do anything to save him.

In that instant, between the threshold of the beginning of the end, he felt like he'd rather let the world die.

* * *

He should have been more surprised that Veronica had roomed Drake and him together, but he was still too numb. He should have been even more surprised that Balthazar hadn't said anything. He'd just given them a dry look and muttered something about _actually_ getting some rest. The fact that his father figure assumed he would be doing anything else, and was grudgingly okay with it, should have left him blushing and babbling and falling all over himself. Instead, he was stunned into a silent, unfazed stupor. Slowly being eaten away by the worry that was squirming like maggots in his intestines.

Veronica had pressed a kiss to his forehead when they parted ways in the lobby. She'd whispered something Latin and faintly reassuring, given him a smile, and sent him on his way. Balthazar had glanced between the two of them before nodding gruffly and going off with his love, their rooms at opposite ends of the hotel. Dave could have stood there, staring at where they'd been, for days. If Drake hadn't pressed a key into his hand and tugged him in the right direction, he would have stayed there forever.

He followed the older man blindly into the elevator. They were both eerily silent as it took them to their floor. Their quiet lasted through the walk to the suite. Dave had the key, it was slick with his sweat as he inserted the piece of plastic into the slot and jerked it out again. He fumbled, hands shaking, and the light flashed red. He tried again, but it didn't work any better. Cursing under his breath, he shoved it in angrily, but the light still blinked red at him. Mocking him.

A hand fell over his, steadying him, and the door unlocked before they shoved it open. Fingers clung to his, twining together and Dave had to force back the tennis ball that lodged itself in his throat. He swallowed past it just as a warm body pressed up behind him, and he leaned back heavily, eyes burning.

"You died," he muttered, a tremor shooting through his body. "In my vision you _died_."

Dave felt him tense. Felt the strong body go rigid behind him. The blonde took a step, urging Dave into the welcoming room without a word. They only parted long enough for Drake to shut the door and lock it. He turned to stare at his other half, fear and worry in his light eyes. Regret tinged their link to each other, and Drake frowned at him.

"_You died_," Dave mumbled and felt his chest ache, and he'd never felt so stupid for wasting so much time.

He'd spent so much time focused on his anxieties that he'd missed out on valuable time he could have spent with the man across from him. Time he could have spent being happy. Time he could have spent loving him.

"Hush, pet." Drake shook his head, closing the gap between them until they were practically chest-to-chest. "You've brought me back before. I've brought you back. It's not set. We don't—"

"But it's the most likely, isn't it?" Dave didn't even bother feeling ashamed at the way his voice broke. "You dying is more likely than not."

"Yes, but—"

"I don't want you to die, Drake." He stated, face resolved and voice firm. "I don't want to _watch_ you die. I don't… I can't lose you. Not now. Not after I've just realized how much you… How much you mean to me."

Dave felt a sudden wave of hope, hot and tingly, as perfectly rough fingers brushed over his cheek. "And what do I mean to you, luv?"

"As cheesy as it sounds?" Dave knew he was blushing as Drake's ever-present smirk softened into a smile. "Everything. You mean everything, and I can't believe I made you wait so long. I'm so stupid and so _sorry_, Drake. Because if you die tomorrow, I don't think—"

"No, Dave. No. I'm not going to die." Blue and green sparks made Dave gasp as Drake pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. "I'm not going to leave you. Never leave you. M'yours, pet. I'm not ever leaving."

Dave took a deep breath, taking the blonde in. The spice of him. The feeling of _right, yes, love_ and the anticipation that coiled low in his stomach.

Leaning up, Dave kissed Drake in his gentle insistence. Arms wrapped around his waist and little flecks of light fell off their skin where they touched. Dave tangled his fingers in blonde locks, tugging softly until Drake's mouth angled perfectly over his, tongue flicking out across his lower lip. The sparks grew brighter as their kiss deepened until they were golden, glowing and mingling together.

Pulling apart, Dave panted breathlessly, searching Drake's face as their foreheads rested together and the blonde spoke. "We can do this, Dave. We can. I know we can."

"How?"

Dark eyes met his, and heat spread down to his toes as Drake smirked at him. "Because I'm in love you, ya soddin' trainspotter."

Dave felt his heart stop then start again, and he smiled a brilliant, elated smile. "I love you, too. I love you so much—"

Lips met, again. Frenzied and intense and _loving_. They broke apart, gasping for air, basking in each other. Worry pushed away for even the briefest moments.

Dave looked up at his other half, feeling a flutter of nervousness even as his cheeks grew warm. "Drake?"

"Yes, luv?" The blonde kissed his cheek again.

"Make love to me."

TBC.

* * *

**A/N:** It's been what? Sixth months? Sorry guys, I was distracted by college and busy writing another story. Don't worry, though. Ladies and gents... I'm already working on the next chapter- awesome smut seen, first I've ever done. And I'm not working on anything else until I finish this story. Then, I'm off to other fandoms. Thanks for sticking with me so long. I hope you enjoy this update.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N**: Not often I'll write an Author's Note at the beginning. But this is because it's a warning. **Warning**- serious sex scene ahead. I mean, seriously. It's um... yeah. I was blushing while writing it.

* * *

Drake stood, wrapped securely around the man he was certain that he could kiss for an eternity. He was so overwhelmed. So overjoyed. He could barely process what his boy had said. The shock didn't help.

"What?"

Dave checks grew redder, if possible. "Make love to me?"

His fingers dug into the other man's hips. He heard Dave gasp softly, his grip tightening in blonde hair. They tugged each other closer, their bodies meeting perfectly in the middle. Drake's eyes searched Dave's face avidly. He had to know it wasn't desperation. That it wasn't just regret spurring the younger man's actions. That he honestly wanted it. Wanted him. That he—

"And here I thought I was the one who thought too much," Dave said, laughter tingeing his voice. "Stop over thinking it, Drake. I want this. I want you."

"Don't want you doing this because you're scared, luv." Drake replied, tone serious.

"I'm not doing this because I'm scared. Though, trust me, I'm terrified." He spoke, the familiar babble bringing a smile to Drake's face. "I'm scared I'm going to lose you tomorrow. Worried I won't be able to save the world. And honestly? I'm kinda squicked out about the whole sex thing. Not exactly the most experienced physicist in the lab."

Drake rolled his eyes at the comparison—it was so Dave that it nearly made him sick. But the nerd underneath the savior of the world was the man he'd fallen for. Brainy and intelligent and brilliantly creative. Somehow, something in Dave's mini-rant struck him, though. His eyes narrowed and he very much enjoyed the way it made the younger man squirm.

"How inexperienced are we talking here, Dave?" He asked, low and inviting, taking in the way he shivered and emotions poured through their new link _want you, scared, please._

The blush was back, burning bright on his cheeks as he offered a lopsided grin. "I'm not sure if you noticed or not, but I'm fairly awkward. Didn't ever win me any cool points with the ladies. And the guy thing is new…"

"Are you saying that you're a _complete_ v—"

"_No_, not completely. I mean, th-there was this time with my RA back in undergraduate school. But I… tend to block that out." He babbled, embarrassed in the cutest way. "I still can't stand utility closets and the sight of massive amounts of toilet paper makes me all sorts of uncomfortable."

"But still very inexperienced." It was a statement, not a question.

Dave nodded anyways. "Very much so. Especially with, ya know, _men_."

"And yet you still want me to—"

"Make love to me. Yes." He nodded again, face resolved and determined. It made Drake want to kiss him silly. "Because tomorrow, the world might be over. Because tomorrow, I might lose you. Because I'm scared, yeah. But also because I love you. And I want to."

Drake felt his chest clench, and he pulled Dave more flush against him, little bits of gold falling where their skin touched. "Say it again."

His brow furrowed and he tilted his head quizzically. "Say what—?"

"Tell me that you love me one more time," he commanded, eyes dark and intense. Almost pleading.

"I love you," his gaze softened and he drew Drake's mouth down to his own. "_I love you_."

* * *

Horvath materialized, brushing inky magick off of one shoulder as he strode forward. The dark sorcerer was livid. All of his plans were being shifted, ruined and dashed. The world was supposed to be over by the next sundown, and he was supposed to be prevalent. He was very unhappy with the idea of being foiled by the goody-goods once again. He wouldn't be another Morgana—caught by some child who barely knew how to manipulate reality. If he was to suffer so much, the world was to suffer too.

The sound of stumbling footsteps behind him made a scowl flit across his face. He servant sounded breathless, faintly desperate to keep up with the powerful man. The blonde rushed to his side, eyes gleaming in that halfling way. Horvath paused, looking his way, irritation and expectation on his face.

"They await your orders, sir." He stated, awaiting word.

"And they will wait," Horvath spit, continuing his trek forward. "Keep those demons of yours at bay for a while, Ethan."

Ethan nodded and followed along. "They will want blood, sir. A lot of it."

"And they will get it," his eyes brightened at the sight of a blue door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a seer to speak with."

"Of course, sir." Ethan bowed, turning away from his master as he started to walk away from the frightfully powerful, ancient sorcerer.

"And Ethan?" Horvath spoke, tone sickeningly sweet. "Do try not to sod this up. I'd hate to see what would happen if you did."

Swallowing thickly, the man nodded and then disappeared into a cloud of inky black mist. Horvath grunted in annoyance, turning his attention to what mattered. He could already feel power radiating, and he shuddered at the ominous pressure. He wasn't wanted there. Not in the least bit. Walking up the few steps, he knocked on the door with his cane.

It swung open almost instantly, revealing a rather disheveled looking man. Inhuman eyes narrowed at him, and Horvath felt fear for the first time in a very long time. This man could kill him in an instant. It would be all over, then.

What do you want?" He asked, voice low and dangerous.

"Here to get my palm read, or what have you." Horvath grunted, standing a bit straighter.

"No," he replied bluntly, nostrils flaring. "We've done enough today. Leave."

"You can't turn me away," he rebuked confidently.

Charlie inhaled and his eyes blackened threateningly. "I can when you've been consorting with demons."

Horvath inhaled sharply. "What has that—?"

"Let him in, Charlie."

"You're too—" The door swung open more, and Horvath was met with the sight of a tired looking woman—her hair tangled, and a large shirt and sweats covering her body. Her eyes, though, her eyes sparked with power.

"I'm never too tired. I've rested a while." She smiled at her lover, leaning up to give him a kiss. "And demon's don't stand a chance against you. Invite him in."

The being was reluctant, but he slowly stepped aside, allowing the man entrance. Tipping his hat, Horvath stepped forward, past the threshold, feeling the crackle of protective barrier as it passed across his skin. The door shut hollowly behind him.

"So," he looked to the seer, and her gaze flickered dangerously. "Lets get this over with."

* * *

"Stop flinching," Drake chuckled, shaking his head as he walked the smaller man backwards towards the bedroom of the suite. "I'm not going to hurt you. Much."

"You're not helping," he muttered, cheeks stained permanently pink. "In fact, more nervous than I was. Thanks for that."

Drake leaned closer, fingers slipping up underneath the hem of Dave's shirt, touching the pale flesh there. He arched away from the touch, letting out a small gasp, and Drake let out another laugh. Almost instantly, the brunette frowned and slapped at his hand. Laughter was pressed against his neck, and Dave rolled his eyes.

"Cut it out!" He pouted, shifting uncomfortably.

"Sorry, pet." The blonde grinned cheekily; pressing a kiss to Dave's lips, enjoying the way sparks flickered between them. "I just can't help myself. You're so cute when you squirm."

"I am _not_ cute," he choked out indignantly. "I- I am very rugged. And manly!"

"Oh, a right fright you are. All muscle and testosterone." Drake teased, and his boy glared up at him half-heartedly.

"If you're not going to—"

"Hush, luv." Drake said, all seriousness, as he pressed another kiss to Dave's mouth.

He walked him a little deeper into the room; the lights naturally dim overhead, setting an intimate mood. It made Dave swallow hard, and his fingers tightened in the soft material of Drake's shirt. He had been lying a little earlier. He was far more terrified than he was letting on. Scared that this would be his only chance with the man he had come to love. With the man he'd given his heart to months earlier.

Suddenly, Dave found himself turned around, a strong chest pressing to his back. He let out a startled yelp, and swatted at his soon-to-be lover when he saw the older man's smirk. He glanced up at him questioningly, head tilted at an awkward angle. Surprisingly soft fingers gripped his chin, and Drake tsked chidingly at him as he gentle coaxed him to look forward.

He nearly jumped when he spotted two other people in the room, but then wanted to hit himself when he immediately recognized the strangers as Drake and himself. A confused expression etched itself onto his features, and warm lips pressed to his temple. His light eyes caught dark ones in the mirror, and the question was on the tip of his tongue when the magician cut him off.

"You can't even see it, can you?" Drake muttered, fingers gliding from his chin, along his jaw, and down his neck.

"See what?" His hazel eyes followed the trail, entangled with sparks of blue and green and gold, which Drake was making across his skin.

Fingers ghosted down his arm, and he shivered. Little lights fell off of their skin. Another hand tugged at his shirt, and Dave lifted his arms obediently. Cotton slid over his head, and the cool air breezed over him, making him self-conscious. Making him vulnerable. One large hand splayed across his stomach, and he flinched again, his muscles spasming just under the surface of his skin. Heat rolled through him, and he was sure that, for the briefest instant, their skin glowed where it touched.

His arms dropped back down to his sides limply. Those knowing digits trailed back down, and Dave couldn't keep his eyes off of them. They laced with his, squeezing gently, before he lifted the hand up. Dave followed it with his gaze locked on their entwined fingers as his own arm was brought across his body. It wasn't until Drake pressed a searing kiss to the back of his knuckles that his light eyes caught with the older man's once more. He trembled at what he saw there—love and lust and _need_. Raw and breathtaking.

"See what?" He muttered again, feeling him press closer.

This time, Drake dropped the contact. His gaze drifted over Dave's reflected form. Dave imagined he could feel where his sight touched—across barely-there muscle, over sinew and skin. The gentlest of caresses. It nearly made him weak at the knee. He leaned back against the blonde, staring at them as Drake lower their arms, the hand on his stomach idly brushing over him. He let out a breathy sigh, the heat broiling a little bit higher with each touch. Tension coiled low in him, and he felt a hardness press into him from behind. Images wrought from Drake's own consciousness flooded him—of figures pressing together, joining and interlocking, writhing together.

His hips reflexively rocked back, and Drake let out a low groan against his bare shoulder. The hand on him drifted lower, undoing the button there before moving onto the zipper. He lowered it, the sound obnoxiously loud even accompanied by the stuttering breath that escape the brunette. Drake nipped at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder, and his head tilted, giving more access, as he moaned. Drake tugged at his trousers, but slapped away any help that Dave tried to give.

It wasn't long until his jeans were pooled at his feet. His boxers soon followed. He was completely bare to this man. Though there was a blush on his cheeks, he didn't try to cover himself up. He just stood there, letting Drake take him in. Enjoying the little thrill that went through him, making him even harder than he already was. Enjoying the way Drake's dark eyes fogged over with want—want for _him_ and _just him_. His heart did a fun tap dance at the thought, and he was surprised he didn't feel more vulnerable. Didn't feel more embarrassed.

He'd never felt safer.

"_Merlin_," Drake let out a curse, eyes catching once more in the mirror. "You're beautiful, darling."

"Handsome," he muttered, sounding almost lost, and a wonderful smile cracked across Drake's face.

"Handsome, then." He tugged him close again, hand crawling low along his abdomen and making him tense. "Breath-taking."

"I can do breath-taking," Dave nodded, snapping a little out of his daze.

He turned in the man's hold, Drake making a small sound of protest until their lips met. They could have spent the rest of eternity devouring each other, feeding off of the emotions rolling between them, just kissing until they couldn't see straight. They only broke apart when the taller of the two jerked Dave's hips forward, and the length of him grinded against the bulge in Drake's pants. The brunette pulled from the lip-lock with a hiss, his hips bucking forward involuntarily, searching for more of the friction.

"Not fair," he mumbled, fingers starting to work at the buttons of Drake's shirt, leaving a path of scalding kisses along the older man's skin with each one that came undone. "You're overdressed."

"We should fix that—_oh_, right there, Dave—then." He replied already working at the buckle on his pants.

Dave's teeth slid across his skin, nipping playfully, and Drake bit back a primal grunt as he shucked off his slacks and drawers until he was standing, a mere breathe away from his love, his shirt just barely hanging onto his shoulders. Light eyes clouded, raking over tone muscles and tan skin. He let out a shuddering breath, hesitantly reaching out to touch. Muscle twitched and rippled under his lingering caress as he dragged his fingers along his chest and down over his stomach until hands snatched up his own.

His eyes fluttered back up, peering into endlessly brown ones. Drake brought his hands up, placing them on broad shoulders before he best slightly and picked his boy up. The Merlinian cried out, his sensitive member meeting Drake's as their bodies collided. Dave watched, panting softly, as the blonde's jaw clenched and unclenched, fighting past the pleasure to carry him over to the bed. He was laid out on top of the comforter, the cotton cool on his hot skin. Bringing his hand up, he tangled it in spikey, blonde locks and tugged the man forward none-too-gently.

Their mouths met, and tongues plunged forward. They lay there, thrusting together, kissing. Hands roamed over flesh, touching, memorizing. Drake settled between Dave's legs, cupping his jaw as he deepened the kiss. He swallowed up all the little, needy sounds his young lover was making, and could taste the lust on his tongue. He rocked his hips against him, their cocks sliding against each other, causing Dave to let out a small whine.

"Oh, god, please," he whispered, chest heaving as Drake wrenched his mouth away from his. "I need you, Drake. I need you so bad."

"Shh, luv." Drake pressed a kiss to his cheek, down his jaw, along his neck. Each one sending sparks skittering across their skin in hues of gold and amber. His fingers brushed against Dave's parted lips, the other hand holding the other man's hips down to the mattress, enjoying the way he tried to thrust up helplessly. "Goin' to make you feel good. Feel so good. Gonna make you scream, David."

His eyes momentarily rolled back as a hot hand drew up the length of him. "Yes, yes, _please_."

Drake stilled his movements, body trembling with the amount of control he was manipulating, and he pressed three fingers against Dave's lower lip. "Gonna need you to wet these, Dave. Need you to—" The digits disappeared into the young man's hot, waiting mouth, and Drake had to bury his groan against a pale chest. "—suck."

A shockingly agile tongue swirled around long fingers, wetting them easily as he sucked them into his mouth. His body was aching for it, begging for it. Drake was idly pumping his manhood, the slow movements driving him mad, and he lifted his pelvis up, trying to encourage more than just the gentle motion. The blonde chuckled against his skin, pulling his fingers from the wet mouth that he could imagine burying himself in—an image that flickered between their link and made the younger man gasp and squirm.

He slipped down his lithe form, branding him along the way. With lips and tongue and teeth. Sparks scattered with each contact, making it that much more intense. When he got low enough, he didn't even hesitate swallowing the brunette whole. Dave arched off of the bed, crying out. His hands fled to Drake's hair, tangling there as the older man licked and sucked his member. Pleasure quaked through him, and a firm hand held his hips down as an experienced mouth worked him over.

Drake shifted slightly, draping one of Dave's legs over his shoulder. He was so far gone, pleasure hazing his very being, that he didn't notice until a cold, wet digit started teasing the tight ring between his cheeks. He tensed almost immediately, eyes flying open wide. He knew that it was going to come, but he hadn't—

Humming, the blonde felt as the Merlinian melted back against the bed. Knowing he was relaxed, the sensations in his cock keeping him from tightening up too much, Drake slipped a single finger into him. Dave let out a stuttering groan, a strange mix between pleasure and irritation. Drake sucked a little harder, doing his best to distract him from the uncomfortable feeling. He scraped his teeth along the underside of him before he sank another finger inside.

"D-Drake, stop." Dave whimpered, eyes squeezing shut as a burning sensation rippled over him.

Drake stilled, removing his mouth from Dave's cock to look up at him. "I'm here, Dave. Not going to hurt long. Promise. Gonna make you feel good, yeah? Make you scream."

Breathing heavily, Dave nodded, and Drake thrust his fingers a bit deeper into him. He pressed kisses to the inside of his thigh, working his new lover open. The whimpers that escaped him grew less and less as he made love to him with his hand, and he drove just a bit deeper, making the younger man toss his head back and moan. He hit the spot again, and every bit of Dave clenched around him.

_More_, was silently passed between them, and Drake slipped the final finger into him. Not giving him time to feel the pain of it, Drake swallowed his cock up again, and began fucking his boy with his fingers, hitting his prostate with each thrust. He didn't slow down until Dave was nearly in tears with his pleasure, writhing, and clenching his hands in Drake's light hair.

He finally pulled away and pulled out, smiling as his lover made a small keening sound. He leveled himself up, their lips meeting once more, and Dave bit at his lower lip playfully. Drake shifted against him, their bodies already slick with sweat, and they groaned into each other's mouths.

"I want you… _in_ me, Drake." Dave muttered against his lips, his legs hitching up to wrap around his waist. "I need to feel you."

"Yes, yes, _Merlin_, yes." Drake nodded, slicking himself up so as not to hurt him any more than he had to. Their eyes locked as Dave gripped his shoulders, and Drake searched his face one more time. Smiling, he kissed the corner of his mouth, his heart in his throat. "I love you, Dave."

Dave returned the look and the gesture. "I love you, too."

With that, he thrust in to the hilt, and froze. Dave cried out, clenching like a vice around him, and his breath came out in a half sob that made Drake's gut churn. He pressed comforting kisses across his face, tasting salt when he caught a tear on his lips, and muttering gentle apologies and promises. He only started moving again when Dave dug his heel in, urging him.

He pulled him down for a lingering kiss, coaxing him in that gentle way of his. Drake withdrew, nearly fully, and then rocked back forward. Dave let out a shuddering gasp, his blunt nails biting into the flesh on Drake's shoulders. His face was still twisted in a pained way, his insides burning, but he knew it would subside. Knew that his lover wouldn't make him suffer for long.

The blonde sheathed himself again, abdomen compressing as he held tightly to the control he so precariously had in his grasp. He reached between the both of them, rubbing Dave's half limp cock until it was hard again as he continued his dangerously slow rhythm. Dave's heel dug in again, a silent plea for him to go faster, to go harder. Drake ignored it, pressing forward with his languid, maddening pace.

Dave let out a small growl of annoyance, the sting of pain finally gone. All that was left was desire. Desire to come to completion with the love of his life. His soul mate. He felt briefly silly for thinking of it like that, but then Drake thrust into him at a different angle, and he let out one of those strangled whimpers. It was a low keening sound that made the Merlinian see stars. He dug his heel in once more, but Drake continued to ignore, pumping the cock in his hand just as slowly.

Beyond frustrated, Dave shifted slightly, waiting for just the right moment before he flipped his weight until he was on top. Straddling his lover, he peered down at him, his dark hair sticking to his forehead and hanging in his face. Drake stared up at him in shocked puzzlement, but the expression was quickly replaced with one of bliss as Dave sank back down onto him in a sharp, quick movement. The new angle changed everything, and the brunette felt happily impaled on his soul mate's cock, the movement brushing against that special bundle of nerves that made him see funny.

"_David_," Drake groaned, gripping his hips. "What are you—?"

"Want you to feel good, too." Their skin glistened in the light, and Dave lifted himself up before slamming back down. He cried out, his fingers twitching over the muscle at Drake's stomach, trying to keep balance as his sight went fuzzy. "_Oh, god_…"

And then they were both lost. Too lost in each other to say anything else. Just calling out each other's names, needy moans into the sex soaked room. Dave rode his lover's cock, feeling it stretch him and fill him in ways he never thought would occur. He felt an immense sense of joy each time they connected. Like something was being set right in the world. But soon, it was all too much to be thinking about _right_. Instead, he was focused solely on _more, god yes, please more._

By the time he was close enough to finally climax, he was shaking so much that he could barely keep up a good rhythm. Grunting, Drake rolled them back over, and he pistoned his hips forward, watching the way his boy's eyes rolled back as he hit his prostate with each thrust. Reaching back between them, he pumped his cock in time with his thrusts, and leaned down to kiss him.

"_Cum with me, Dave_," he whispered against his lips, groaning as he tightened around him. "_Cum with me_."

Barely coherent, Dave muttered something while nodding enthusiastically. He draped his arms around Drake's shoulders, their lips pressed tightly together as the rhythm between them increased until the brunette was cumming, his face twisted in the sweetest agony. Drake swallowed up the sound, shuddering and thrusting a few more times into the hot vice before he too was lost in the throws of passion. Gold sparks erupted across their skin, falling and blinking out of existence.

Panting and trembling, they came down from the highest of highs. Drake peppered Dave with kisses, gingerly pulling from before collapsing next to him on the bed. Both breathless and slick with sweat and semen, they looked at each other, smiled, and laughed. Curling into each other, Dave blinked tiredly at the blonde, cupping his jaw and kissing his lips chastely.

"I love you, Drake."

"I love you, too." Drake replied, wrapping his arms around him. "I love you, too."

Dave grinned lopsidedly, snuggling closer. "Say it again."

Chuckling, Drake pressed a tired kiss to his head. "I love you."

TBC.

* * *

**A/N: **Well... That was, um... I didn't mean to make it that... I'm sorry? I hope this is okay. My first ever sex scene between two guys. So, you know, nervous. I didn't Beta it, so it's completely unedited. Probably a lot of typos. But there's probably about two chapters and an Epilogue left.

Hope you enjoyed it.


	16. Chapter 16

Dave woke with aching muscles, and a warm body cocooning his own. Letting out a soft groan, he rolled over in the embrace, burying his face against his lover's chest. And wasn't that nice? _Lover_.

He was barely roused when lips started pressing gentle kisses to the top of his head. He craned his neck and their mouths met in a lingering kiss. It spoke of sated, burning passions and of aching love. They parted reluctantly, and Dave cringed. Morning breath. Drake chuckled and kissed him again.

"What time is it?" He muttered, winding his arms around his neck and across his lean frame.

Sunlight streamed in, flickering gold across the crimson sheets. Drake's fingers tightened and loosened over his hips. The touch was nearly bruising; it made him flinch and arch closer. The light flickered again, and for an instant he thought the building had started to shake. One of Drake's eyes squinted open, glancing over Dave to the clock on the nightstand.

"Half past five," he grumbled, eye shutting again.

Dave twisted away, sitting up until the sheets were pooled around his waist. The red numbers glared at him from the clock. They were angry. Nearly demonic. They shifted and he frowned.

"In the morning?"

The sound of the shower running made him look back over. The bed was empty, and the sheets were cold. His brow furrowed as he reached out to touch where his lover had been. He quaked, as there was a knocking at the door and slid out of bed. Struggling into a pair of jeans, he huffed at the sluggish feel in his body. He felt heavy. Unusually so. He stumbled from the bedroom, and knocking thundered at the door.

Dave nearly fell on his face at the sight he was met with in the sitting room. Balthazar was face down on the carpet; knife plunged deep into his back. Veronica's eyes were missing, blood coating her face and clothes where she was slumped in a silk chair. A low wail filled the room, and Dave had no idea if it came from him or not until he rushed over to their bodies and realized that he was sobbing. He called out to them, feeling faint throbs of life that sent him spiraling, trying to find a way to bring them back.

"Drake!" He cried; hands covered in crimson. Dripping with it. "_Drake_!"

A knocking at the door. The blonde strolled into the room, dry and dressed to the nine, not even looking his way. "Would you get the door, already?"

"Drake, don't—"

He jerked it open, and smiled at the older man bitterly. "Horvath."

"Merlinian," the sorcerer greeted.

A flash of green and Drake was soaring, pain laced in his voice. His body collided with the wall, falling limp against the floor, leaving fractured plaster in his wake. Dave went to rush to his side. He willed himself to move, but his body creaked and ached. Letting out a harsh groan, anguish rippled through his limbs as he lurched to his feet. He had to try and get to his lover. He had to heal him before it was too late.

Hands caught him and jerked him around. Rough fingers gripped his jaw, squeezing harshly, and tears burned at his eyes. Tears of fear and sorrow. He met Horvath's glower with hate-filled eyes, bitter and cold. Horvath grinned sadistically.

"Don't make that face," he muttered, voice almost teasing. "You knew this would happen. You saw death. Can't you feel it?"

Dave squirmed, trying to escape the ill feeling that was coming over him. He could feel the spaces they were leaving behind. Feel the absolute emptiness. And it terrified him. Tears slipped down his cheeks, and he tried to wrench out of Horvath's hold.

"They're dead, Merlinian." He grinned. "Dead and gone. There isn't anything left and it's all your fault."

"No—"

Horvath tsked at him, touching his stone to the smaller man's chest. Agony ripped through him, and he felt an insistent tug at his chest. Burning. Searing. He tried to scream, but no sound could leave him.

"If you want them to live, you'll come to me." Images flashed in his mind's eye. Locations. "You'll come alone and surrender. I will permit them to live if you do what I say. Though, you may not be as lucky."

Understanding dawned. The grip on his jaw loosened just enough for him to nod. Horvath smiled sweetly, letting the jewel touch his chest again and he was shocked—sent flying back until he woke gasping, tangled in a mess of sheets and strong limbs.

"Dave. Dave, luv." Drake's panicked tone made him want to cry. "It's okay. You're—"

Dave clung to him desperately, pulling him into a deep, needy kiss. The older man groaned, pressing into him. Dave felt little sparks of gold flutter, and healing green hands wandered his body. They pulled apart breathless.

_You okay?_

_Fine. Fine, lover_. Dave smiled tiredly. "Bad dream."

"Seems like," Drake propped himself up, bringing knuckles to his lips. "Thrashing about worse than that second round last—"

Dave's hand slapped over his mouth, blush fiery hot. "And we're done talking."

A wet tongue slicked his palm, and Dave's nose wrinkled in distaste. Chuckling, Drake moved it aside and leaned forward to kiss his nose. The tension that had been riddling his young lover faded, and he felt _want need_ through their link. Strong and pulsing.

"You're so cute when you're disgusted," he muttered before claiming his mouth again.

He felt a familiar fire building when there was a bang on their door. Grunting in annoyance, Drake rolled away with great reluctance, leaving Dave to untangle himself from the bed as he tugged on a pair of pants. He grumbled all the way to the door, blonde hair sticking up at odd angles. Jerking the door open, he noted the spike of _oh god sheer terror_ that zipped through Dave, and resolved to ask him about it later.

"Up, I see." Balthazar greeted mildly, taking in his disheveled state. "We brought food. Or… ordered food. There should be tea coming soon."

He brushed in, Veronica not far behind him. She gave an apologetic smile, and ushered in the staffer. The smell of food made his stomach grumble, and he was instantly grateful. He shut the door after the plates had been set on the coffee table and he'd given a nice tip.

Dave joined them, looking skittish. And absolutely darling in one of Drake's larger shirts and his own baggy jeans. He smiled weakly as he took in the three.

"Uh, morning." He waved, and all Drake wanted to do was take him and run. "Is everything—?"

"We're going to do a skrying, David." Veronica offered. "To find where Horvath is. So that we can stop him."

Drake watched the way he swallowed thickly and nodded. "R-right. Cool."

There was another knock at the door, and Dave almost jumped out of his skin. They were all thinking the same thing, but couldn't voice their concern as he rushed to the entryway. Drake sent assurance through their link. Dave smiled warmly at him over his shoulder as he wrenched the door open.

"—should get started."

Drake turned his focus back to the large map they'd laid out. Stones were littered over it, and he grimaced. He hated skrying.

His mood immediately changed as tea was pushed into his face, his lover holding it to him with comfort in his eyes. Balthazar and Veronica already had theirs and were drinking it as they discussed their plans in half-English and half-Latin. Leaning over, he kissed Dave's cheek and took a big gulp of tea. Frowned at the bitter taste.

"Sorry," was mumbled, and Drake felt shock ripple through the room as Belladonna was set on the table by shaking hands. "I'm sorry."

Drake's vision clouded. The last thing he remembered were lips pressing to his temple.

* * *

Horvath was still tingling. He'd never liked Seers. Their powers made his skin itch. As soon as he'd had the fortune told, he'd gotten as far away as possible. Then he'd set his plan into the motion—the only way for him to be sure he would win. Kill of one Merlinian before the both of them could take him out.

"He's waiting."

"Already?" Horvath blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected the message to get through so quickly.

"Yes, sir." Ethan said stiffly; still wary of his boss. "He's alone."

Horvath nodded. "Then let's meet him. Can't keep him waiting forever. He doesn't have that long left."

**TBC.**


	17. Chapter 17

Dave shook.

It was honestly more of a tremble. He was terrified and angry. And had he mentioned terrified? Because he was. Really and truly.

This wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want to be standing by that crowded fountain, surrounded by laughing, happy people while he felt so dreadfully alone. The panic was setting in. Each time someone moved too fast or got too close, he would flinch away. He wondered if they would kill him right there. Strike him down where he stood. Or would they take him? Bring him to some secluded little corner and watch the light leave his eyes.

He thought of all the people around him. He thought of their joy—could feel it thrumming somewhere in the back of him. He thought of the man strolling with his secret male lover. The little girl who was lost by the ice cream shoppe. The best friends giggling and pointing at an attractive street musician. He thought of them all, and his panic piqued. He couldn't let all of these people die. Not because of his own stupid fear.

Turning from the fountain, he went over his plan again. Went over it and planned and plotted. He hoped it would work. He prayed, silently, to whoever had given him his abilities, to let it work.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Dave blinked.

Looking up form the Euro pinched between two strong fingers, Dave met a pair of dazzling blue eyes. Swallowing thickly, he glanced at the money and up again. He tried to speak, but no words would come. The stranger's hand retreated, flipping the coin as he offered a sly smile.

"Not an English speaker?"

Dave tried to snap out of it. "Um, no. I mean—_Yes_. Yes, I speak, um, English. Sorry."

"No problem, mate." The man chuckled, running a hand through eerily gold locks. "Startled you, did I?"

Dave could only muster up a nod.

The man hummed. "Sorry. Here's me, trying to be suave—"

"_No_," Dave smiled reassuringly, but it was a small one; that nervousness was still weighing heavy in his gut. "Very James Bond. Just, uh, yeah… startled me."

"My apologies," he grinned back, and Dave noted a particularly endearing dimple. "So what is a handsome bloke like you doing all by yourself? You _are_ by yourself, right? I'm not stepping on any toes?"

Dave barked out a sharp laugh and shook his head. "I'm alone. Very much alone."

The stranger gave him an appraising look. "Has your lover left you?"

"What?"

"You've got the face of a broken heart," he replied, shrugging as he turned to look at the fountain. "I'm assuming your lover left you."

Dave took a deep, slow breath. "I left him."

"Really?" He seemed genuinely curious. "What for?"

Dave hesitated. "Let's call it a conflict of interest."

The stranger laughed, draping his arm around Dave's shoulder companionably, causing the younger man to shift uncomfortably. "Well, whatever this conflict was over, I'm sort of glad. Not everyday I get to meet a man like you in a place like this."

"Man like me?" A fine flush found it's way to his cheeks. He was unaccustomed to being hit on.

The stranger tugged him closer, and their eyes caught. Dave's stomach clenched at the callous quality they had, and he knew that it was finally happening. "Yes. You know… cute, intelligent, self-sacrificing. An incredibly powerful sorcerer. I always do go for the powerful martyr types."

The world spun. Dave's eyes widened in horror as he tried to pull away. The arm on him was too tight. Suddenly, the floor dropped from under them and his nerves lit on fire. His skin ripped apart and a scream fell silently on his lips because he couldn't breath. When everything finally settled, the stranger let him topple to the grass as his knees buckled beneath him.

Gasping desperately, Dave glanced around, completely delirious. Looking up, he made a strangled sound at the sight of a headstone. Stumbling over himself, he struggled with his limp limbs to get away from the grave, only to find that he was surrounded by them. His breath came raggedly as he collapsed back, shaking his head to clear his vision. A cruel laughter met his ears, and he looked up at his kidnapper.

"Oh, you _are_ cute," he chuckled; leaning back against the tombstone, light eyes taking him in.

"W-_what_? Where—?"

"Sorry for the disorientation. Tends to happen on the first go." He smiled, tilting his head as Dave gagged on nothing. "Nausea's a side affect."

Jaw clenched, Dave summoned up a fireball, blasting it the stranger's way. The blonde dodged the attack easily, moving faster than sight. He was suddenly right before the Merlinian, gripping his chin dangerously tight.

"Still got some spunk in you. That's good. Means you'll last longer." He was practically purring, his pupils dilating in an inhuman way. "Shame we're going to have to kill you. You would have been very fun to break."

Dave felt a quake of fear pass over him. "Who _are_ you?"

The man grinned devilishly, about to speak when a familiar voice cut him off. "Ethan. Do get your claws off of our guest."

Ethan was back against the tombstone in a flash, face screwed up in an unpleasant frown. He obviously didn't like to be ordered around, but was terrified of the consequences that would follow if he disobeyed. Dave's keen eyes made their way over to another dangerous figure, finding Horvath smirking at him as he made his way through the graveyard.

"You actually came by yourself," he said brightly, and Dave's fingers dug into the dirt beneath him. "I'm surprised, David. Really."

"Why?" He hissed back, struggling to his feet. Horvath let him, and Ethan watched silently. "Thought I'd be too scared?"

"Well, yes." Horvath grinned, coming to a slow stop across from him, his hands resting on his cane. "But look at you, now. Not the coward I first encountered in that shop so long ago."

Dave shrugged, trying for nonchalance. "There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity."

Horvath chortled. "Yes, I suppose there is. Which side do you fall under, Merlinian?"

Dave glanced around, taking in the dank surroundings. It was unfamiliar to him. Granted he'd never been to Europe before, and even if he had, he wouldn't have ever come to a graveyard for sightseeing. He knew they had the upper hand. There was two of them, at least, and only one of him. The idea that he alone could take them down, with whatever they had up their sleeves to end the world, was simply laughable. Impossible.

Which just meant that he would have to try extra hard. Resolve set in place, Dave took a deep breath and met his enemy's eyes. Horvath's brow quirked up bemused, and the Merlinian swallowed thickly.

"I'd definitely have to say on the stupid side," he muttered.

Horvath's eyes widened as Dave summoned his magick to him. He had one shot to finish this all off. If it didn't work, he wouldn't have the energy to make another. He wouldn't have the energy to keep the world from falling to pieces.

A familiar feeling of power filled him as the ball of light, large and iridescent, formed in his hands. It had that familiar tinge of green, and the heat almost made him dizzy. Both beings froze at the sight of the alien magicks. It was strange and new; it made them quake as a want to draw near spread through the both of them. It was like they were under a thrall.

With an almost animalistic yell, Dave lugged the glowing energy at Horvath. The sorcerer's gaze widened in horror, and he barely took a step back as it was hurled at him. He was still far too drawn to the raw energy to fully understand why his body was trying to retreat fearfully. It wasn't until Ethan had moved himself in front of the glowing force— taking its impact fully with an anguished shout—that Horvath snapped out of it. He watched as the changling he'd considered a minion crumbled to the damp ground, power crackling and sizzling around him.

Horror dawned over his features as magick sparked in the air. He watched as the blonde's skin started to crack and deteriorate, his clawed hands dragging across his chest where he'd been hit by the unfamiliar ball of light. It was like he was concaving in on himself, and he let out a final, pained scream before he fell to ash.

Horvath stared blankly at the pile for a long moment. When he looked up, Dave was glaring at him, blood dripping from his nose as he barely held himself upright. The Morganian's mouth shifted from its agape look, curling upwards into a cruel and triumphant smirk. Dave shook, standing his ground even as the other sorcerer stepped forward through Ethan's ashes until he was just close enough to nudge him with his cane. Dave fell over instantly, gasping for breath and head pounding.

"That was it, 'ey?" He asked cockily, humming his joy. "Your big stunt? The thing that was going to save the world? Oh, you poor, naïve boy…"

"It would've… It would've worked." He whispered back, desperation tingeing his voice.

Horvath swung his cane, hitting Dave across the cheek harshly and sending him sprawling. "Indeed, it would have. Too bad it didn't."

Dave panted, fingers digging into the dirt. He was helpless and hopeless. He'd used up every piece of his energy for that. He was dead on his feet, and Horvath was still walking, laughing, mocking. He was still going to end the world, and it was all Dave's fault. He'd wanted to stop it before it even began. He'd tried.

Feeling a searing heat at his back, Dave's magick reacted on its own, protecting him. A shield flickered to life around him, strong and shimmering. The flames dispersed across the light blue of it—sparking here and there. Horvath sneered, pacing around the perimeter of the shelter he'd conjured up. Flipping his cane over, he grasped the bottom and swung it at the protective energy. It fractured faintly, and the sorcerer let out a huff.

"That's the way you're going to play it then, David? Cower behind your magick like a scared little lamb?" He paused, dark eyes catching Dave's—the young man's gaze was an odd mix between calculating and frightened. "Hide under there while you can, David. And do feel free to watch as I end the world, would you?"

Dave struggled to move. He hadn't realized that taking away someone's power would be so draining on his own body. He hadn't tried it on anybody—he'd just known, the second he'd made it, that it would work. In retrospect, he should have suspected there would be a price of his own to pay. He'd put so much into that attack—magick, strength, and hope. Watching the monster of a man start setting up for the Apocalypse, he realized that it had all been for naught.

Resolutely, he scrambled onto his hands and knees. He wouldn't go down without a fight. There were spells on his lips and building up in him. He was stronger than this man. He could save them all. _He could_. He _had_ to.

Watching with keen eyes, he saw Horvath draw up strange, old symbols—some he recognized from the hours upon hours of studying that Balthazar—and wasn't that a whole _different_ can of worms he didn't need to be thinking of right then—had made him do—into the dirt and muck of the ground. Power filled the area, crackling at the surfaces of reality, and Dave felt fear not for the first time that day. It quaked through him, and he reacted without thinking.

He stood, force field dropping. Before the older sorcerer could even react, he'd slung a plasma ball at him. He deflected it easily enough, face screwed up in annoyance. Dave tossed another at him, tucking and rolling behind a tombstone as flames came flying back at him. This back and forth continued, Dave trying to push Horvath away from the sight where he undoubtedly intended to unleash Hell on earth.

"You'll have to do much better than that!" He called, throwing a rapid few attacks, just enough to distract Dave so that he could get back to the circle he'd drawn. "You think you can stop me when it's already been predicted?"

Dave grit his teeth and tried to peek from around the tree he had taken cover behind. "Nothing is set in stone, Horvath."

"You really think that?" The other man mocked with a delighted laugh as he hurled another attack at him. "You really are just as naïve as I thought you were."

The force splintered the tree, sending him flying. He landed with an anguished cry, his body collapsing against the grass in a disheveled lump. Grunting, he rolled over just in time to avoid another attack. Power gathered at his fingertips, and he hurled another plasma ball at the older sorcerer, eyes widening as he saw Horvath hovering over the seal he'd made, magick glowing and clawing at the earth's surface. The plasma ball hit him, knocking him off kilter enough for Dave to scrabble just enough magick together to hit him again.

Horvath fell away from the seal, but it was far too late.

The ground trembled beneath him even as he managed to climb back to his feet. Feeling weak and nearly useless, he buckled at the edge of the medieval design, fingers brushing over the insignias. Maybe he could still stop it. Maybe he could push the rest of his strength into closing the portal before it even had a chance to fully open. Maybe he could—

A pained shout slipped past his lips as red and orange bit through his clothes and scorched his skin. He went toppling over, skidding a few feet away from the only thing that could bring the world to an end. The thing that he still needed to try and stop. He shifted and winced, coughing up a bit of smoke—and wasn't _that_ terrifying?—as Horvath stalked near. The older man glowered down at him dangerously, and Dave tried to back away, crawling on his elbows.

"It was a nice try," Horvath sneered, flicking his cane; Dave gasped as the stone at the end glowed and cool, dead hands reached up from underneath the crust of the earth to grip at his ankle. Horvath crouched down before him, looking smug as ever. "I mean you gave it your best shot. You nearly took me down. What more could you possibly want?"

Another hand broke free, and suddenly there were bony fingers and rotting vines twisting and twining around him. Holding him still. He felt fear erupt over him, and his stomach clenched. These were his last moments—he longed for Drake and felt tears burn at his eyes.

"I want you," he grunted, struggling against the forces constricting him, "to get out of my face."

With the last bit of power he had in him, Dave sent a final green ball at Horvath. It took him by surprise, hitting him dead in the chest. His eyes widened in horror as his magick started stripping from his genes—it tore away at him, pulling from his marrow. He fell to his knees as it ripped from him. The creatures binding and tearing at Dave's body didn't cease when the magick was finally severed from Horvath's control. If anything, it went haywire.

A very faint smile, tainted with pain, flickered over his face. The seal may still be open, but at least Horvath would be unable to command them. Or, at least, command them for long. There would be enough confusion to make them easier to defeat. Enough time that hopefully Drake would be able to save them all. A tear slipped down his cheek as a cruel hand covered his mouth, and his heart ached at the thought of his lover. The thought that he would never see him again.

"Dave!" A half-broken voice broke his reverie, and suddenly the bits of earth and monster receded, burning away until he was sprawled in the grass, panting and completely breathless. "Dave, luv, are you alright?"

His bleary eyes looked over, seeing bleach blonde hair and nearly sobbing at the sight. "You're here."

Drake pulled him close, running a fretting hand over his wounds. "_Merlin_, Dave. You're—You're—Why would you do something so _stupid_?"

His light eyes trailed over to where Balthazar was shutting down the seal with Charlie's help. The angel looked grim, but slightly pleased. Like he'd expected a much worse outcome. Veronica was hovering by Horvath's crumbled form, her face a conflict of concern and anger. Dave's gaze flitted back up to wonderfully dark eyes.

"I couldn't—I couldn't see you die, Drake." He whispered, and tasted copper as he coughed.

"Bloody fucking shit," Drake let out a string of dark curses, his hand glowing as he began to heal the worst of Dave's injuries. "You're stupid. We could've… I didn't have to die. You didn't have to do this, all of this, on your own. You _stupid_ git."

Dave let out a watery laugh, wincing as agony set his nerves afire. "Still love stupid git me?"

Drake paused in his healing, gripping Dave's chin with just enough force to let him know that he was deadly serious. "Always, Dave. I will always love you."

"Good," he felt his world starting to tilt and swirl, his words slurring on his tongue. "Because I love you… so much. I love you, Drake."

Drake's eyes widened in acute horror, and he immediately set back to healing his lover. "Dave, you stay with me!"

His head lulled, and darkness clouded his vision.

"I love you," words as hot as fire on his skin. "_I love you_."

He felt his heartbeat slow, hollowly thudding in his chest.

"Don't you _dare_," he trembled and took a shuddering breath. "Don't you die."

_Sorry._ _So sorry_.

TBC.

* * *

**A/N: **We're almost done! I believe there's one more chapter and an epilogue left. If you'd like, I could put another smut scene in said epilogue.

I'm so happy that you all have been going with me on this journey. I hope it lives up to expectations.

Reviews are always welcome.


	18. Chapter 18

His head throbbed painfully. It was an unusual kind of pain. The sort of anguish that generally came right after a nasty vision. Something that he didn't get often and sincerely hoped to keep that way. Visions were messy and misleading. Visions were something he would add to his "Not Fun" list.

So waking to the feeling—the very nasty feeling—of just having a vision was quite disconcerting. Not to mention disorienting. Because if he'd had a vision, he would've remembered the foggy, madness of it. Every quirky, annoying detail. But he couldn't remember a lick of it. Which meant that he _hadn't_ had one, and his body, his brain, his _essence_ was aching for no reason.

Or for a different reason. A different reason that was an entirely separate, entirely terrifying can of worms. One that involved doing something incredibly stupid and death defying. Though considering the fact that he couldn't seem to move, maybe it hadn't been as scot-free as he thought. He strained, barely wiggled his fingers, and groaned.

Good Merlin, he'd _died_. He'd died saving the _world_. He'd sacrificed himself for the world, and he was in an incredibly comfortable bed, with a screaming headache, and the inability to move. He wasn't sure if he was being punished or rewarded. Though, personally, he was hoping for the latter. Betting on it. Because who would punish someone for saving the world? Unless the afterlife consisted of malicious, sadistic demons—something he should have taken into deep consideration before allowing himself to be offed.

His fears were assuaged as a cool towel pressed to his forehead. A shuddering breath escaped him, and he was _so relieved_ but terribly distraught. He was safe and okay. He was _dead_. His eyes teared up behind shuttered lids, fear coiling within him. No more science. No more physics. No more magick. _No more Drake_. Just dead, and Merlin it was _terrifying_. A sob bubbled up past his lips; his chest burned uncomfortably.

"Hush," a delicate finger brushed away the tear that slipped down his temple. "It's all right, Merlinian."

Words weighed heavy on his tongue, bitter. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but it wouldn't move. He tried to tell this woman how _not okay, not all right_ this was.

"I cannot allow you to move yet," she states, wiping his brow gently, and Dave felt the spark of magick flutter over his skin.

He wanted to scream at her. Wanted to ask her why. Wanted to beg her to send him back. To make him not dead.

"I know, Merlinian. But it's all right." She muttered, and he felt warmth spread over him. "You do not need to go back."

His body jerked as much as it could under her spells, and he heard her sigh.

"You must _stay still_," she insisted, and her soft hand fell over his closed eyes. "I will permit you vision and speech if you stop trying to move."

His body went completely lax.

Laughter met his ears, and in the next instant he was opening his eyes and squinting even though the room was lit only by what light could peak from around the brilliant crimson curtains on the windows. He took a shuddering breath, adjusting to the room silently. His mouth was too dry; he had to swallow a few times before he finally managed to wet his throat enough to speak.

"Where—?" his voice broke.

A string of foreign curses drifted in the air like a song. Dark hands rested on him, sitting him up gently in the bed of yellows and reds and oranges. Settling back against the headboard, the wood groaned beneath him, and the beautiful, dark skinned woman smiled while pressing a cup to his lips. He had expected water, so when warmth and spice teased his tongue, he was surprised by the flavor. Sputtering for a moment, the woman clicked her tongue and chided him, tipping his head back as she ran a rough thumb down the front of his jugular. It goaded him into swallowing, and the liquid provided immediate relief.

Once he'd finished it, she set the cup down on the bedside table. Turning back to him, she checked over his face, examining his vision carefully. Checking his sight. He didn't have to say a thing as she read him perfectly. It was safe to say that she was a healer of some sort.

"Empathic and telepathic, as well."

Her accent was something he'd never heard. He watched mutely as she moved from his face down to his chest. Gaze following her quick, efficient movements, he took in the way she rolled down the linens so that she might access him further. At the contrast of her black skin on the starkness of bandages wrapped securely around him, he went rigid as realization struck. Her eyes flickered up to meet his.

"I'm not—?"

"No, Merlinian." She stated with a sly smile. "But you were very close."

There was a moment's pause as she analyzed him, taking in everything. His pain, and his guilt, and his hope. She frowned and finished checking his bandages.

He took in the room in his relative numbness. She was quite good at easing his discomfort the second he needed it. The room was warm—not just in temperature but in color. It was oak and reds and oranges. Pleasing to the eye. A healer's room. The smell was ancient, clean, and spicy. He imagined that it was the smell of the earth. His healer smiled, dusting her hands off as she leaned back in her chair.

"You are mending quickly, Merlinian." She informed him, and his dazed stare fell back on her as she tied her hair back from her face. "Some of my best work."

"Who—?"

"Munesu," she replied. "Old friend of your Seer's. Of Cassie's."

"I thought that she had to be neutral," his voice sounded coarse and broken to his own ears. "No help to either sides."

Munesu nodded sagely. "She is and must remain impartial or she is stripped of her gifts."

Dave's eyes widened comically.

"However, it does not mean that her friends must be so," they shared a small, conspiring grin. "You saved the mortal world. Helping heal you was the right choice—Cassie's friend or not."

He swallowed thickly, grateful. "Thank you."

"You are welcome, Merlinian."

Dave had more questions. A thousand of them. They were on the tip of his tongue when there was a knock on the door. Both of them looked over as it cracked open, bells chiming as another person entered.

"Got more of that tea you wanted," Drake mumbled, cradling a bowl to his chest awkwardly, appearing tired and disgruntled. "How is he—?"

Their eyes met and Dave felt a tingling sensation alight his nerves. He went to spring from the bed, to run to his lover, when a hand on his chest restricted him. The blonde seemed to go weak, and there was a sloshing sound even as Munesu pointed a scolding finger his way.

"You drop that bowl and I'll have you lick the floor clean." She snapped, not even looking at him.

Drake swallowed thickly. He moved forward, steps stilted, and set the bowl on the chest at the foot of the bed. His gaze never left Dave's, and he felt faintly light of breath—like he might float away—even with the weight pressing ever so lightly against his bandages. Seeing him and knowing that he was there—that the world was safe, and they could be _together_—was like having his heartstrings tugged and plucked and pulled. A tiny grin flitted over his mouth, and his heart fluttered happily as Drake drew closer _hello god yes hello_.

Munesu huffed, reluctantly removed her hand from his chest, and passed scolding glances between the two of them. Without a word, she stood from her spot, grace in every movement as she stepped away from the bed and from the couple. Drake took up her seat, hovering nervously by his side. Not once did they turn their gazes elsewhere. The woman pursed her lips and rolled her eyes.

"Nothing stressing," she grumbled, padding from the room and shutting the door behind her.

Drake flinched slightly at the sound—as if worried anything too loud would wake him from this wonderful dream. He reached out to him, pausing just before their fingers could meet, and Dave felt every bit of his worry. Of his hope. Their hands caught, and they both let out respective sighs of respite. Shaking, the blonde leaned forward, elbows resting on the bed as he pressed a hot kiss to his knuckles.

The kisses continued—they were peppered over his skin, loving and overjoyed. Dave smiled, brilliant and white, and a tear slipped down his cheek as he laughed. Ignoring the twinge of pain that darted up his side, he reached over with his free hand to cup his lover's jaw. Leaning towards one another, their lips met gently and chastely, over and over. When they had finished, their foreheads rested together, and they shared the same breath.

Drake squeezed his hand. "You stupid, stupid, _stupid_ bastard. You stupid, _beautiful_ bastard."

"I know, I'm sorry, I know." He kissed him again, long and searing. "We did it. We did it, right?"

"_You_ did it."

"I did it?" He asked skeptically.

Drake nodded, "You shut it completely down. Ended everything. You were so good, Dave. Brilliant."

"So I'm brilliant, not stupid?" He asked cheekily, and Drake rolled his eyes as he leaned forward to kiss him again.

"You're both, you git."

Dave basked in his attention. He basked in the fact that he wasn't dead—everything had turned out okay. The world wasn't ending. Drake was with him. He wasn't dead. Neither of them were.

Everything was okay.

Despite the prophecy that the world would be overrun by the dead and the damned. Despite the prophecy that predicted Drake's death. That predicted his death. Despite everything, it was all okay.

Because, honestly, the truth about prophecies was that—more often than not—they were wrong.

Fin.


End file.
